Issues
by HolyGrail-SangReal
Summary: Todd Tolandsky, AKA Toad, is sent off to the Acolytes after Mysique tries to kill him. Watch the insanity unfold. OOc, partial AU, yaoi, screwed up frog boys, mental issues, and cuddly Sabretooth await you in this crazy conglomeration of pure wierdness.
1. Chapter One, Revised Edition

Ok, the IMPORTANT SHIT chapters are now posted at the bottom of this page instead.

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Loyal Readers, I present to you- The first re-written chapter of ISSUES!

(insert non-existent fans cheering here)

So, blah blah blah, don't own, legal crap, don't sue me I'm broke.

* * *

Dear god, why was he here again?

"Gambi', ole buddy ole pal, you sure do ge' youself inna all sor's a situat'ons," the wiry, brown haired man muttered to himself, pacing nervously up and down the length of the small room he'd been directed to.

He was here, pacing, inside this small room, waiting for... whats-his-name.

Towd- Toad- no, that wasn't right...

Todd.

Yeah.

So, he was here, pacing, inside this small room, waiting for Todd, the froggy kid- Toad was his code name, wasn't it-?

Well, yeah. Waiting for Todd. Waiting for Mystique and Todd.

How the hell did he get himself into this again...?

_Oh yeah_, he couldn't keep his mouth shut.

He really had to work on that...

So. Waiting for Mystique and Todd, 'cause he couldn't keep his mouth shut. Yeah.

He turned, pacing some more, hands gripping opposing elbows behind his back.

Well, if he thought about it, it wasn't _really _his mouth's fault. After all, Remy LeBeau may be a villain, but he was no child-killer.

Which, if he'd been reading Mystique's angry snarls and the whole 'hands-wrapped-around-the-throat' thing right, was what he would have turned into if he'd stayed silent. At least by association.

So, being the... good bad-guy, as much as that was possible, he'd, of course, stepped in to make sure Mystique didn't kill the kid.

Which is how he ended up in this situation. Here. Pacing, inside the small room, waiting for Mystique and Todd.

So he could take the kid home with him.

Mon Dieu, Sabretooth was gonna kill him.

He paced, and paced, and paced some more, slowly becoming more and more worried that Mystique had gone ahead and killed the kid anyway- until the door flew open and one of the skinniest, scrawniest kids he'd ever seen was shoved through, catching a shoulder on the door frame and tumbling to the floor.

Ouch.

"Get up," Mystique hissed, stalking into the room after the kid, glaring at him like the little one was scum on her shoe.

He felt himself bristling a little, careful to keep it internal. He didn't want to give Mystique any more reason to be pissed, not with the kid still in the room.

So he watched, seemingly uncaring, as the kid staggered to his feet obediently, one spindly hand coming up to wrap around the injured shoulder.

"Gambit, this is your new charge. Get him out of my sight before I decide to kill him."

He brushed auburn hair out of his eyes, sighing as the blue-skinned woman whirled around and stomped out of the room.

"Mytsie dear'st mus'a forgo'n t' take a nap t'day," he singsonged under his breath, shaking his head, "I ha'_ no idea _wha' Monsieur Bucket-Head was t'inkin', makin' her secon'."

He walked around, making sure he was in the kid's direct line of sight the entire time, pointing towards the door that let to the outside world.

"C'mon, petit granuille, come wit' Gambi'-"

"I'm not a dog, yo," Todd muttered, following behind him quietly but for that one remark.

_'Reflective shades do come in handy_,' Gambit thought to himself, eying the kid with said items. Todd was shivering, walking slowly, blinking slowly, like he was tired. He whirled around, thrusting an arm out to catch the kid as he stumbled.

"Did you no' bring a jack't?" he asked, staring at the kid oddly. It was cold, snowing, and the temp. hadn't been over 30 in the past two weeks.

"Dun' have one."

He was starting to think that the abuse went beyond physical. Because, no matter what Mystique believed, or even what the kid believed, what the blue-skinned bitch was doing was abuse.

And abuse, well...

Abuse was one thing he couldn't stand.

He stared at the shivering, skinny, scrawny kid and wondered how Mystique could possibly have found a reason to hurt him. Shaking his head, he shrugged of his overcoat, holding it out.

Todd looked at him, the jacket, and back again, not reaching for the offered item of clothing. Instead, the kid eyed him distrustfully, and then the jacket, and back again.

"Sr'sly?" He raised an eyebrow, shaking the offered jacket a little, "Gambi' di'n booby-trap a damn jack't. I's no' gonna kill you- i' fac', no' puttin' i' on'll prolly kill you fast'er."

The spindly hand stretched forward, hesitantly, tense and ready to jerk back at the slightest threatening movement. When none came, the jacket was snatched from his hand with lightning speed and wrapped equally fast around the shivering form.

"D'ere we go," he smiled, trying to put the kid at ease, "See? No 'arm done."

"...Thanks."

He led the kid to his car, this time walking beside Todd, noticing that, even with the jacket, the kid still shivered near violently.

"Col', petit?"

He nearly cooed as the little child glared at him, snickering a little at how... _adorable_ it made him look. Really.

"Yesss, I'm cold," he hissed through clenched teeth as another violent shudder wracked his frame, "I'm friggin' cold_-blooded_, I get cold if the temp drops below _sixty_, yo."

Ooh, ouch. That had to be inconvenient, especially living upstate, where snow was common.

"Gambi's car be havin' a heat'r," he placated, pointing out said car- his beautiful, beautiful baby...

"Yippee, yo. I'm not gonna freeze to death."

He snorted, rolling his eyes at the deadpan reply.

"Such a happy li'l chil' you are, ar'nt you?" he shook his head, twirling the keys to his baby around a finger, "You b' gettin' along wit' Johnny jus' fine."

Todd stopped short for a moment, and had to jog a few steps to catch back up.

"J-Johnny?" he choked.

"You b' livin' wit' de Acolytes now, petit," he answered, "Dat b' Gambi', Pyro, Sabbs, Colossus, an' somet'imes Mast'rmind. Dat b' a prollem?"

The kid visibly steeled himself, hiding momentary fear behind a neutral mask. He was good, that was for sure. Remy knew grown men who'd been in the Thieves' Guild for most of their lives that _still_ didn't have that sort of control over their expressions. It made him wonder a bit about how the kid had gotten that good... and why.

"Are your buddies the kind of people that like to beat the crap out of kids?"

He thought about stopping, properly addressing the fear, but figured getting to the heated car would help more- for both of them- in the long run.

"List'n t' Gambi'," he said seriously, not stopping but doing what he could to ease the distrust and tension, "_No one _is gonna hur' you. No' when you're wit' de Acolytes._ No one_."

The kid obviously didn't believe him, but he wasn't expecting miracles. It was very likely that, even when it appeared the kid was comfortable, trusting, he wouldn't be. It would take a while for Todd to open up, and depending on just what he was working with here, it was entirely possible that the kid just... _wouldn't._

"Johnny migh' take a bite outta you, t'ough," he smirked, laughing out loud at the nonplussed expression.

He stopped in front of his car, dropped his keys, picked them up again, dropped them, and then finally got them into the lock, popping open the other doors at the same time.

"Hop in."

He cranked the heater up on the highest setting, making sure the vents on Todd's side were flipped open.

Although, if he were to be honest with himself, it wasn't all for Todd's benefit. Living in the Louisiana Bayous most of his life hadn't exactly built up his own cold tolerance...

"Eh, Gambi' jus' b' jokin' wit'chu, petit. He won' get'chu, an' if he tries, Gambi' 'll jus' hit 'im wit' de spray bottle. Gambi' promise on 'is Cajun honor."

"Yeah, what's left of it."

He laughed again, pleasantly surprised. From what he'd heard, the Brotherhood Boys were all stupid delinquents, and Todd the worst of them all. What he'd seen in the scant five minutes in the child's presence, however, said the opposite.

Todd was shy, skittish, but seemed to be quite intelligent, if the scathing wit was anything to go by. Also, it was a good sign that the kid was willing to joke around with him, even if it was just to take pokes at his dubious reputation. It was a sign of trust, at least, that the kid didn't think he'd take a swing because of a little joke.

"Why're you- why're you acting weird, yo?"

Observant, too, and comfortable enough to ask questions.

"A'tin' 'weird'?" he asked, pretending to be a little confused.

"You're... well, you're not beatin' the crap outta me, and that's pretty weird, for starters," the kid muttered, eying him warily, "Also you're... I dunno, different, yo. Mellow?"

He smiled at the kid, carefully backing out and into the main road.

"All o' us- all de Acolytes- act diff'ren' 'round Mystique. We 'ave t' act like ass-kissin' sycophants 'round 'er, de bitch."

Todd stared at him from underneath ragged bangs, and he made a mental note to add a haircut to the shopping trip they were going to have to make.

"So you guys are like the Brotherhood?" the kid questioned, a little hesitantly.

"Prolly," he replied, weaving in and out of traffic, "We really don' act anyt'ing like we do 'round her."

Pausing to swerve around less-in-control driver, he continued, "Take Toothy, f'r 'xample."

"Toothy?" Todd asked, bemused.

"Sabretooth," he clarified with a grin, "'E's really a big, softy. Likes to f'ckin' _cuddle_."

With a full body shudder, Todd shook his head.

"Dude- _dude_, just no. That is_ waaaay _to creepy."

"Mmyep. An' d'en d'ere's jolly ol' Gambi', who always sees de brigh' side of life- a horrible optimist, Gambi' is. Johnny-boy is- well, no' much change d'ere. 'E's still crazy as crazy. Iron Gian', who can still hardly speak English, and Mister Mind, who changes faces as of'en as most people change d'eir shirts!"

"Why do you hide from her, yo?"

"Jus' easier," he answered, scowling a little, "If we don', she t'rows a hissy fi', an no one wan's t' hear dat, petit. Mon Deiu, dat femme can _shriek_."

Todd laughed a little, and seemed to relax, leaning back against the comfortable leather seats. Apparently, warmth and good humour did wonders for suspicious little children.

"Well, we hide 'cause we don't really gotta choice, yo. She's a bitch, and the Brotherhood would rather not let her know what we're really capable of."

He was stared at, warily. He could practically_ feel_ the kid debating with himself on what to say. This, he knew, was a test. If anything Todd said ended up leaving his mouth, well, any and _all _trust he'd garnered with the kid would go flying right out the window.

And the kid would probably leave _with_ it.

"Lance can do a lot more than just shake things up, and Pietro's not half as self-centered and stupid as he pretends to be, yo," Todd said in a nonchalant tone, though Remy knew the release of information was anything but.

"Wha' 'bout _you_, petit?"

"You do know what my name is, right?" the kid asked, looking at him with an eyebrow raised, obviously trying to change the subject.

"A'course Gambi' does," he replied with a laugh, playing along for now, turning the car into a narrow driveway and putting it in park, "Toddy-Frog. Gambi' woul' like t' welcome you t' Chateau de Acolytes."

He decided to shelve the personal questions for now. He was sure the kid wouldn't like him prying, and he could always wait until Todd was a little more trusting to start delving into the kid's past.

"Dude- duuuude!"

The kid scrambled out of the car and stared up at the decent sized house in awe, dropping his guarded, wary mask for a moment.

"No holes, no peeling paint, no odd shaped mouldy spots, no broken windows..."

Todd flung out his skinny arms, gesturing wildly towards the house.

"And it's not a cheezy, cliched evil mansion, either! Look! No clouds, no lighting or thunder, wow, this is a nice place you got, yo!"

Gambit just shook his head at the other's enthusiasm, taking the kid by the shoulder (noting the flinch he got at the action) and leading him into the house. He wasn't sure just where that outburst had come from, but hey, if Todd felt comfortable acting like a kid around him, who was he to complain? It just seemed... almost a little sudden.

"You an Johhny-boy'll ge' along jus' fine, now," he sighed. Oh boy, another Johnny... He could barely keep up with one!

"I'll be gettin' along with who, now?"

He tightened his grip slightly as the kid jumped, smiling at the nervous look he got.

"John, perf'ct timin'. Johnny-boy, dis b' Toddy-Frog. Toddy-Frog, dis b' Johnny, or Pyro as you prolly know 'im."

He watched as the tall, skinny man reached out a slightly burnt and bandaged hand, smiling widely.

"Hey, there, mate. Name's St. John, but John and Johnny are fine. What's yer name? 'M pretty sure it ain't really Toddy-Frog."

Todd shook the other man's hand hesitantly, and let go as fast as possible, shaking his head.

"'M name's Todd, but ev'rbody calls me Toad."

"Well hi, Todd! Hey, Rem, where's he gonna kip?"

"In the room next to ours," he threw over his shoulder as he headed towards the kitchen, reaching into the fridge to pull out the fish he'd bought for dinner only to meet with empty fridge space.

Ohhh, whoever took his fish was definitely going to pay...

* * *

Yeah. So, opinions? Comparisons? Do you like this one better, or the old one? Any tips, any spelling errors, any opinions you'd like to offer this starving almost-college student?

And yes, I am doing the one thing I promised never to do and begging for feedback. Hell, I don't even care of you just want to tell me you hate it, go ahead. I'll appreciate it anyways.

* * *

Ok, on to the important shit.

This story was written... freaking years ago, man. It sucks._ Bad_. There are grammatical mistakes, spelling, continuity issues that come from stop-starting for three years, problems with tense (which I still have XD) and problems with 1st-2nd-3rd-person shit.

So I've decided to rewrite it. I'm sorry for you people that were crazy enough to enjoy this piece of shit, but it really, really needs to be done.

Also, I'm gonna try to explain things a little better XD

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OK, **IMPORANT!**

Two things.

1. Gambit's accent. Should I make it less pronounced/more pronounced/ get rid of it period? Is it too hard to read with/ weird to read without?

2. 1st/3rd person. Readers, is it easier for you to read it first or third person? Which do you like better?

I'm asking for your opinions because I honestly would like to know how to make this story better, for your reading pleasure.


	2. Chapter Two, Revised Edition

**READ THIS FIRST**

In case you haven't noticed, this thing is re-written. Yeah. If you're confused, its because you ignored the author's notes and skipped the first chapter. Go back one, read, try again. Still confused? It's 'cause my writing sucks XD

Ok, changes:

3rd person, not first.

I toned down the obvious references. Just a little bit. Not really.

Added in amazing Aussie slang for our dear Pyro. Did I do it wrong? Probably. Are any of you going to be nice enough to tell me? Probably not.

Thanks to a suggestion by the amazing Misgiving Writer, I tried to make the shifts between humour and drama... less dramatic. Thank you very much for your suggestions.

* * *

"So, Rem' tol' me you're gonna be staying here, but he didn't exactly mention why. Havin' a blue with yer Brotherhood cobbers?"

John laughed as the kid stared at him blankly with absolutely _no_ understanding in his expression.

"Are yeh havin' a fight with yer friends," he clarified, making a mental note to remember that not everyone grew up in Australia. He needed to start using _American_ slang...

"Uh, no," Todd replied, a little warily, "Mystique wanted to kill me and apparently Gambit's too much of a softy to let her, so now I'm, for some reason, staying here."

"Oh? Now why would that bitch wanna kill a little ankle-biter like you? Came the raw prawn too many times with her?"

At the kid's look of confusion, he elaborated, exasperated, "Didja piss her off?"

"Didn't do much of nothin, yo," Todd muttered, "I just... ain't all right up in the head."

"Ooooh, that kind of ropeable," he smirked, leading the kid up the staircase, "Yeah, the sheila ain't exactly... well, she don't like people like you and me."

"You and me?" Todd parroted back with a confused head tilt, accent and all. The kid really would make a good Aussie, and maybe some time in the outback sun would get rid of the icky-dead-zombie-like paleness that clung to the mutant's skin.

"Well, between me and you," he smirked, ruffling the kid's hair before his hand could be batted away, "I got some kangaroos loose in the top paddock. Schizophrenia'll do that to yah."

Yep. Living with voices in your head that tell you to do things like set the neighbor's dog on fire and eat that small kid's head will make you... _crazier_ than most people. But then Remy had come and he found the short Cajun more interesting than the voices, and started paying attention to _him_ instead...

Todd looked to be on the verge of saying something, but stopped, shutting his mouth and simply shrugging instead.

"Look, kiddo," he said, pausing in front of the door that led to Todd's new room, "I just wanna let you know... well, I kinda get it, yanno? You can come talk to me if you, yanno, wanna. Or something. Remy too, he's dealt with me during my loony phases that he kinda gets it too-"

In fact, Remy_ should_ be the one to talk with the kid if he were having any real problems. Johnny could only help him with the not-real ones.

"Talk?"

The kid laughed, an empty, bitter sound. Kind of like forcing a laugh in an empty tunnel or something, all... echo-y and fake and so _so_ empty. He didn't like it.

"Thanks, but no thanks, yo. Talking's what got me in this sitch in the first place."

"We're different," he winced, aware of just how cliched that sounded.

He really wanted to help the kid, he did, but he couldn't do that if the kid didn't trust him. Rem' hadn't told him much, but from what he'd gathered, the kid was... damaged. Not like him, Todd wasn't_ crazy_, but... he could _help_, he _knew_ it, if only he could get the kid to _trust_ him!

"I don't... I can't be sure, yo."

He sighed, but didn't press the issue. Instead, he pushed the door open, waving the kid inside.

"Ok, this is your room. The room right across is mine and Remy's, the one down the hall to the right is Sabb's, and to the left is Colossus. The room around the corner, down at the end, is Mastermind's. Fair warning, you do _not_ wanna go down there."

He grinned, a little sheepishly.

"Mastermind's, well, a liiiiittle bit... _trigger-happy_. Yeah. So, you can just throw your stuff anywhere, I'm sure it can't get any messier than Sabb's room-"

Todd shrugged off his ratty backpack, threw it on the bed, and looked up at him.

"Done."

He looked at the small backpack, then at the kid, noting the torn, ragged jeans and the tattered shirt. He was sure part of the reason why Todd looked so pathetic was the clothes, and if he ever wanted any hope of ever saying no to anything the kid could ever ask, they needed to get him new ones. Like, soon. If the kid ever learned to do the puppy-face, he could probably take over the world.

"We gotta go shopping," he muttered, shaking his head.

"Oi, de food's done!" came a yell from downstairs, accompanied by a clang and a few curses.

"And that would be Rem," he said, smiling a little. Ah, clumsy, clumsy Remy. Ruining awkward silences since... well, at least since he'd become an Acolyte, that was for sure. Probably long before that.

...Time to focus on real-world conversations now.

"Ok, mate, looks like it's time to bog in... One last bit of advice, though- if you hear any funny noises coming from our room late at night, don't come in. For your own innocence's safety."

He looked down at the kid, eyes narrowed.

"If that bothers yeh, yeh can always go sleep on the couch."

He would not have someone judge the one good thing to happen in his life since... ever. He loved Remy, and Remy kept the voices quiet- without pills- so that was an even bigger reason to keep him around, and no matter how screwed up the kid was, if he didn't like it he could go- go eat a lemon or something.

Yeah.

"Dude, at least you _keep_ it in your room," Todd answered, sticking out his tongue, "First rule of the Brotherhood- Lancy_-dear_ and Pietro-_hunny_" the pet names were said in a sickeningly sweet voice, "need their alone time, wherever that alone time may be located. Kitchen, living room couch, and beds they _don't_ own included, yo."

He giggled, and Todd shrugged, looking up at him, slightly wary.

"I'd be a bit of a hypocrite if it bothered me, anyways."

He grinned, happy the kid was trusting him with _something_, even if that something was small. It meant Todd was at least considering his offer to talk, and that made him happy, because that meant the kid was considering the offer to talk, period. It was kind of weird that this was going so fast, though... oh well. _Remy_ could worry about it, he was just gonna... go with the flow.

"Well, my pillow-biting friend, shall we go to dinner?"

His arm was gallantly offered, and he waited...

And waited...

And waited...

Until finally...

"Dude. You creep me out."

"To dinner then!" he cried, taking matters into his own hands- well, arm, really- and frog marching the little toad down to the kitchen, where yummy Remy-cooked food awaited.

* * *

Translations of random Aussie slang I threw in there because I found it hiding on the interwebz:

Blue: Fight

Cobber: Friend

Ropeable: very angry, mad. John's saying that she's pissed _that way_.

Kangaroos loose in the top paddock: Crazy, stupid, 'not all there'

Bog in: Eat

Ok, so, what did you think? A little better? No? Do I still suck? Probably.

By the way, John's thoughts are supposed to be kind of run-on-y and confusing. He's crazy, that happens. I should have added in some word salad, what with the schizophrenia and all, but I thought that would just be mean. Especially if you don't know what word salad is. Oh, and this story has gay people in it. I like gay people. All my gay people are fluffy, and I like fluffy things. So yeeah. Remy and Pyro romance. That would be, what, RaPR? Oh wait, no, that's Red and Purple... Jomy? Rehn? Pybit? Gamyro? Gampy?

...I like Gampy. This is a Gampy story, with random yaoi, yuri, and maybe het thrown in. Somewhere.

...Under a bus.

FEED ME FEEDBACK!

(Sorry, Lent, candy withdrawl, save me from a non-sugary fate god please-)


	3. Chapter Three, Revised Edition

New and Improved Chapter 3 of Issues. Enjoi.

Oh, I don't own Evolution. If I did, there would be a lot more yaoi, a lot more porn, and... all my hated characters would be dead. What, you say? Shadowcat is still alive? Guess I don't own it, then.

* * *

John and Todd marched into the kitchen, Todd looking rather disturbed and John giggling his head off about... Something.

"Remy, darling! I have discovered..."

The french man waited patiently, knowing that John was going to finish the sentence sooner or later. Eventually.

Maybe.

"A PUN!"

And there he went.

"Oh- OH! Are those Mac-and-cheeses I smell?"

Well, _now_ he remembered just why there were _thirty boxes_ of Macaroni and Cheese in the pantry. And why he never cooked it.

For some reason, it just made John... crazier than normal. Maybe it had something to do with artificial ingredients and food colouring. He'd read that article on how some dyes could cause erratic behaviour problems-

"Remy, dearest, darling, the voices..."

He yelped in surprise as arms were wrapped around him, spinning him in a circle before setting him back down at his feet, right in front of the stove.

"The voices demand Mac-and-cheeses. They do," his... questionably sane lover declared, perfectly serious, as Todd just looked on.

"You must feed them Mac-and-cheeses, before they start demanding other things. Like soul-toast."

He rolled his eyes, trying to ignore the crazy ramblings of John as he scooped said Mac and Cheese into bowls.

"You talk like a walking Jhonen Vasquez comic," Todd muttered in the background, "Are you going to start demanding satanic store clerks to turn on the ice-sucky machine after two in the morning now, too?"

He stumbled a bit as John let him go.

"You! Mortal, you have heard of the greatness that is Jhonen Vasquez?" John asked, shocked.

"Yes, Mr. Scary-Neighbor-Man. And I managed to get Lance hooked on the comics, too," Todd said, smirking and looking pleased with himself. Remy shook his head, setting the bowls on the table along with forks and napkins.

"Remy needs t' ge' his han's on dese comics," he muttered to himself, shaking his head, "Maybe Johhny-boy'd make more sense, den."

John gasped with mock hurt, hands clasped over his heart as if he'd been shot.

"Remy, my darling! My lover! My dearest Heart! You_ wound _me! I always make sense!"

"John, shu' up an' eat your macaroni."

"Yes dear."

Todd just stared.

* * *

Todd didn't know what to think. He'd... he'd been talking to Freddie- _The Blob, talking to the Blob, he wasn't Freddie anymore, not after_- about his... issues. About how hard it was to hide them, how hard it was to live with them.

Talking, to his surprise, had actually helped a little bit. The... issues, they became a little easier to deal with, a little easier to handle. He stopped getting stomachaches, stopped getting sick, stopped-

Well, he was getting better.

A little bit.

Up until Mystique had randomly showed up, dragged him out of the Boardinghouse, and tried to kill him.

She said he was a liability.

She said she couldn't afford to have someone_ 'mentally sub-par'_ on her team.

She said he knew too much.

Like _hell._

She told him- told the Brotherhood_ nothing_.

They didn't know anything about her, or Magneto's plans, or his bases, or even the Acolytes.

And yet...

She tried to kill him. Because he was... because he had... _issues._

He couldn't help but wonder if being dead would be... better.

Lance wouldn't have to worry about having another mouth to feed- because the world would end the day Mystique gave them _anything_- Pietro wouldn't have to worry about defending him all the time, Mystique wouldn't have to worry about him giving away anything 'important'...

**No.**

He _had_ to stop thinking like this. This... It wouldn't be _fair_, not to Lance, not to Pietro... They would miss him.

...Wouldn't they?

He frowned, picking at his food. He should be starving, he knew that, but... well, he was used to not eating. He always tried to eat less, leave more food for the others- after all, he could go catch his own meals. They couldn't. He'd dropped weight, though, a good five pounds in the last few weeks- which, added to his allready scrawny frame, made him look downright scarecrow-ish.

He forced a few bites into his mouth, chewing and swallowing mechanically as he watched Pyro and Gambit... twitch at each other?

No, there was definitely a pattern. A recognizable pattern.

They were using _BlackOps_ code, military shorthand. He knew it, a little too well.

He'd learned it... before he'd come to the Brotherhood.

Speaking- well, thinking of Gambit and Pyro...

They were not how he'd thought the Acolytes would be. If he were to be honest with himself, he'd thought all the Acolytes would be like Mystique.

But... they seemed different. Much... dare he say it... kinder? Kinder to him, anyways.

He wasn't sure what to think about that, either. It was so odd, to have adults actually... be _nice_ to him. That never happened, never. His strict code of rules was being demolished, and he wasn't sure that was a good thing. He'd already spoken back, and he hadn't been hit. He'd _deliberately_ provoked Gambit and had gotten _laughter_. The man thought it was _funny_! And they were constantly joking, with him, with each other- he didn't know what to _do!_

Typically, every situation with an adult was dealt with in the same way- be exactly what they expected you'd be, deal with the punishment, and hide until forced to repeat. That was how it _always_ went, but he couldn't _read_ these guys like he could everyone else- he didn't _know_ what they wanted of him, or what they were gonna do to him if he broke their rules. Hell, he didn't even know what the rules _were_!

He shook himself, focusing instead on the short, jerky twitches.

'Talking about what now?' he signed, almost snorting at the half-guilty, half-shocked-and-confused expressions on the two men's faces.

If he was going to be staying here, he needed to know how much he could trust these two. He _needed_ to know, or he'd probably end up dead.

* * *

Gambit twitched his fingers slightly, tapping his spoon against the glass bowl to get John's attention.

He'd learned BlackOps shorthand while working with the Thieves Guild- which, surprisingly to most people, was run a lot like the military. He'd taught it to John, of course, and a few of the other Acolytes- it really came in handy when they needed to communicate silently.

Like now.

'What?' John signed, twitching his fingers over his juice glass before grabbing it and taking a sip.

'You've spoken to Todd,' he signed back, 'Suggested course of action?'

John didn't answer right away, taking a few bites of his beloved Mac&Cheese and subtly glancing at the kid in question.

Remy had noticed that Todd wasn't really eating, but he thought that it was because he was nervous around them. Now though? Watching him knead his stomach, body tense, he wondered if perhaps there was a medical reason for him to be so hesitant. He added a doctor's visit to the list of things they were going to have to do.

'Gotta go slow.'

Another pause.

'Gotta let him go at his pace. He like a scared animal right now, Gambit. Feel cornered. Talking- why he got into trouble in first place.'

'So, we wait?'

'Talking about what now?'

The twitching came from the most unexpected set of hands.

Todd smirked up at them, fingers still forming the last syllables of the words he'd just signed to them.

"Uhh, th' weather?" John laughed nervously, and he nearly smacked his partner over the head.

He reigned in his urges and sighed instead, rubbing the bridge of his nose as Todd drawled a, "Suuuuure, yo," in their direction.

"Where'd you lear' military shor'hand?" he asked, a little desperate to change the subject.

He was sure it wouldn't help the extreme trust issues if the kid found out they were talking behind his back. Apparently, asking personal questions wasn't the right way to go about it, however.

Todd went blank, all traces of mirth gone.

"I... I learned it when I was younger, yo."

He looked at John, and the taller man signed, 'His pace,' from his place behind the kid.

He didn't press.

The door chose that very moment to open, spilling wet half-snow into the kitchen and causing Todd to jump about three feet in the air.

"Grrrah! Damnit, Colossus, watch it!"

"Izvinitiye, Comrade-"

He smirked, shaking his head.

"'Ello, Sabbs, Iron Gian'."

The large, cat-like man turned and glared, snarling angrily. He stomped over, shaking half-snow out of his hair as he went, tracking water all over the kitchen floor.

Todd twitched.

"How many times," the cat-man hissed, "have I told you not to call me by that damnable nickname?"

"Hmm," he smirked, pretending to count on his fingers, "Gambi' t'ink he be loosin' count aroun' six t'ousan'?"

"And what-" a push, "-does that tell you?"

He smiled up at the already pissed man.

"Dat you jus' looooove Gambit's nickname!"

He yelped as he was smacked upside the head.

"Idiot."

He laughed, reaching out an arm and pointing at the still-kind-of-twitching Todd.

"Dis be Todd. He's stayin' wit' us for de time bein'."

Sabretooth growled, eying him warily.

"You picked up another stray?"

To his surprise, the kid didn't flinch or react violently when Sabretooth loomed over him threateningly. He was expecing the kid to freak out, but...

Holy hell, was the kid..._ petting _Sabbs?

* * *

Once again, this is the REVISED version. Better than the old one? Worst? Things you liked I took out, things you hated I left in? DID I SPELL SOMETHING WRONG? Write a review and rant at me for it, I'll probably get to fixing it. Eventually. Yeah. Oh, and Thanks, Misgiving Writer, your reviews make me smile!

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Yeah. Wanna make the author smile? Give them a review. Go on. Review button's not gonna bite.


	4. Chapter 4! :D I like EXCEEEEDRIN

Sorry about the long wait. Last weekend, I literally wasn't even at home, at all. Mizumi-Con on Saturday, and the Sherwood Forest RenFest right after- so fun, by the way. This weekend, I was... what's the internet version of cock-blocked, fanfiction-blocked? internet-blocked? by a major migraine that nearly OD'ing on Excedrin couldn't help, but I powered through it to give you guys possibly the longest chapter I've ever posted! So, here you go! I'm off to bed, I got school in the morning XP

Don't own, or the show would definitly not be appropriate for small children. Hehe.

* * *

In Todd's opinion, it was best to know the rules- no, it was best to know how much you could _get away with-_ as soon as possible. Right now, he was in a strange hose, with strange people. He had no idea what would set them off, what would get him hit, or starved, or tossed out in the cold, and that wouldn't do, not at all

He liked to know the limits. He liked to know what would set off his... caretakers? Babysitters? Whatever they were. As of right now, with the strange way Gambit and Pyro were acting, he couldn't make heads or tails of the rules here.

So, he walked up to the person in the room that looked most likely to hit him or toss him out on his ass and... pushed things.

_Juuuust_ a little.

Though, after seeing the look of awestruck horror on Gambit's face, he supposed he could have started off with something a little less... rebellious? Death-defying?

But Sabretooth was just... so _cute_ when he was purring.

"Awww," he cooed, scratching the much larger man on the head, "You're so _adoooorable_ when you purr..."

He smiled then, and looked across the table to Pyro.

'No way,' the older man mouthed, shaking his head.

"Oh yes!" he said, grinning crazily, "It doesn't take a genius to see that you understand me. That is what you are thinking."

He stopped, stared at the semi-murderous, crazy glint in the half-purring, half-growling cat-man's eyes, and continued.

Somewhat foolishly.

"You're a nice kitty."

That was, apparently, the snapping point.

He leaped up just in time, barely missing the feral's clawed swipe and landing high up on top of the fridge, which, unfortunately, wasn't high enough.

Pyro was, also unfortunately, too busy laughing his ass off on the floor to help him, so Todd had to fend for himself.

Sabretooth stretched a little, easily reaching his hiding spot, so Todd jumped clear, landing on the floor and darting towards the only spot higher than the fridge. Triply unfortunate, now that he'd clearly discovered the 'breaking point', as it were, he was gonna die.

"Run, Wobbly-Headed Bob, run!" Pyro gasped before collapsing into another fit of giggles.

He followed his fellow crazy's advice, though he leaped rather than ran. Right onto the only untested person in the room.

"Priviyet, Todd," the giant (taller than the fridge) man said, sounding a little surprised.

Not that he'd hold it against the big guy, having a smelly frog kid use you as a perch probably didn't happen all that often...

"Uh, pr-privvyet? That's 'hi' in... Russian, right?" he asked, trying to remember long ago lessons, "Well, uh, päivää, yo!"

He yelped and clung to the large shoulder as it shook with laughter. He shouldn't feel so calm around this guy- he was an awful lot like Fre- the _Blob_, after all, but... There was something about him that just made Todd feel calm.

It was kind of weird.

"Da, priviyet is 'hi' in Russkii. I will apologize in advance- I tend to lapse back into my mother tongue often."

Pyro finally managed to pick himself up off the floor, staggering over to a chair clutching his stomach.

"We usually just smack him and he goes back to normal," the flame-haired man wheezed, still grinning crazily, "Kinda like our radio... and the shower... aand the computer... aaand the TV... aaaand the car-"

"We ge' i', Jon, we really do," Gambit interrupted.

"Oh wow, you guys have a TV?"

Forgive him for being excited- the last time they'd actually had a working television was the whole 'give us cash for saving you' phase. _Damn_, the Colossus guy was really making him chill out. Must be a part of his mutation or something. Typically, he wouldn't show so much excitement over something- doing that was a sure fire way of getting it taken away from you, after all- but... _duuude_. Yeah. Calm and... and _stuff_.

Gambit looked him over- which made him twitch a bit- before shaking his head.

"No TV till Toddy-frog 'as a bat'."

Now that was a little insulting. Seriously?

"Not unless you have fancy soap and high end water filters, yo," he growled in a fair impression of Sabretooth, hopping down from his perch and roughly yanking a few paper towels from the roll by the sink.

He set about cleaning up all the melted half-snow that had fallen from the two Acolytes, finally relieving his hands from their nervous twitch.

Any and all chill factor he'd gotten from the big guy was gone. Damn, he was just sick of people assuming he didn't bath on purpose. It wasn't _his_ fault his mutation was gay.

"And why is that?" Sabretooth growled, staring at him suspiciously, which also made him twitch. He didn't like it when people stared at him. Or, you know, looked at him. At all. All the creepy eyes on him, just... _staring_ and stuff.

"The water here is bad shit, yo," he said, absently straightening a few things, "Has all sorts of chemicals in it- same with the soap. They burn my skin, dry it out to the point of cracking- which is not fun, yo. All bloody and messy and really hard to clean up off of anything-"

Gambit winced.

"We do have a wat'r filt'r. You c'n use some o' Sabbs's soap-"

"_What?_"

"Go on ahead an' use dat, until we c'n get you your own," Gambit raised his voice, completely steamrolling over Sabretooth's protests.

He ran out of the room, up the stairs, and proceeded to throw open every door until he located the bathroom.

* * *

Gambit smirked.

OCD at its finest...

Within minutes, the water was running and they heard happy yelps as the kid discovered this or that.

"Dude! Y'all have hot water, yo? _Sweet!_"

He frowned, looking over at John, confused. The Brotherhood didn't have hot water?

John had the same expression as he did.

"So. Why, exactly, is the runt staying here?"

He winced, turning to face the irate feral.

"De bitch known as Mystique found ou' abou' some issues dat de kid be havin'. Remy... Remy couldn' jus' let 'er_ kill_ de kid!"

"You picked up another stray?"

The impending argument was interrupted by Colosus, who placed a hand on his shoulder, looking down curiously.

"Issues?"

"Remy can' exactly say..." he hedged, hoping no one would pry.

He wasn't entirely sure himself. From what he'd seen, the kid definitely had OCD- he nodded his head with each step, as if counting, he tapped door handles twice before opening them, and twitched if someone so much as dripped water on the floor.

Todd _definitly_ had some trust issues, as well, though if what John said about the kid being in this mess _because_ of talking was right, he wasn't surprised... He knew for sure that the kid had some sort of SI disorder. There were small round scars and scabs all over the backs of his hands, as well as scratches and little gashes.

He didn't know, however, if the kid was doing it on purpose or not. There was also probably a whole slew of phobias he hadn't even seen hints of yet, though, and other things...

Piotr seemed, if not satisfied, then at least willing to wait for more information. Sabretooth was not so easily put off.

"What kind of issues, Gambit?" the feral snarled, looming over him threateningly. John bristled over to the right, tense and ready to jump the cat if need be.

"De kid's been hurt, Sabbs, real bad. Got no trust in anybody as is. Remy can' jus' betray 'im like dat, yanno?"

"I just want to know whether he's dangerous or not," Sabretooth growled, backing off but starting to pace around the small kitchen, "if it's anything like John's 'issues'. Will he be calm and normal one second and try to rip out my throat with a pencil the next?"

"Oh come on!"

John threw himself at Gambit's feet, looking up at the Cajun with sad puppy eyes.

"One time! You try to rip out a guy's throat with a pencil one time and they hold it against you for the rest of your life!"

The flame user wrapped his arms around Gambit's legs.

"I said I was sorry!"

He shook his head, waving the semi-schizophrenic off his legs and into a nearby chair.

"No' from wha' Remy c'n see. He's jus_ un gamin_, jus' a lil kid."

"He doesn't have a reason to hurt any of us- yet," John said, "Just don't give him a reason."

"He's givin' me a reason," Sabbs growled under his breath, slightly sulky.

"Dat's 'cause he be testin' us," Gambit said, "Say you're inna new place. Strange land, strange people, but you know dat dere's a death penalty for anybody who disobeys the rules. Whaddya do?"

"Learn the rules," Piotr answered, at the same time that Sabbs said, "Gut some people."

"Righ'," he muttered, "Let's go wit' Piotr's answer on dis one. So, righ' now, Todd's in a new place, livin' wit' new people, and he's pushin' 'cause he needs t' find ou' how much he c'n get away with b'fore he gets hurt for it. He's findin' the limits- of de rules, our patience, everyt'ing. He sees you-" he pointed to Sabbs, "-as de most dangerous one here. He's gonna be testin' you first, Sabbs."

He stopped and looked over at John, one eyebrow raised.

"Anyt'ing t' add?"

"Right now, it's very, very important that ya don't make him think that puttin' his trust in us is a bad idea. If _that_ happens..."

John trailed off, frowning.

"He'd become a danger- maybe to himself, maybe ta everyone around him- it's hard a' tell which way someone'll snap."

Gambit glanced at his watch.

The water had been running for almost a half hour by now, and he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad one.

"Remy's gonna go check on de kid."

John looked up at him and frowned again, signing something quickly, hand hidden from the others.

'Make sure he's not scrubbing skin off.'

He nodded slightly, just enough for John to know he'd seen, and jogged up the stairs.

"Todd?"

He knocked on the door loudly.

"Todd, it's been nearly 'alf an hour-"

"Shit!"

There was a crash.

"Shit shit shit- sorry, I didn't realize-"

He laughed.

"It's a'ight."

The water shut off, and he could hear some more crashes and slightly muffled cursing before the door flew open, nearly catching him in the face.

Todd scrambled out of the bathroom, dressed in holey, too-big jeans and a ragged long sleeve shirt.

"Sorry, yo, I didn't mean-"

"It's fine," he repeated, waving off the apology, "It's not a proll'em. John c'n always make more ho' wat'r."

"That must be really nice," the kid said with a slightly dreamy look on his face.

"_Oui_," he replied, eyes slightly narrowed.

Time to add 'lack of hot water' the the list of things wrong with the Brotherhood house.

"So. Sabbs is... Sabretooth?"

"Victor Creed," he corrected, "Most everyone here uses real names."

"Um, Colossus is the big Russian dude-"

"-Piotr Rasputin-"

"- Pyro is John-"

"_Oui_."

"And you are Gambit-"

"Remy LeBeau, at your service, _petit granuille_."

"Anybody else I should know about?"

"Mastermind lives here too, an' dat man coun's as an infinite number of roommates. 'Is name is Jason Wyngard, an' 'is face changes as oft'n as Texas weather."

"Oook, then. That's it?"

He nodded, watching as the kid raised his arms to scrub at his now-clean hair with a towel.

"_Mon dieu_, child!" he gasped.

The shirt sleeves had slipped down, revealing painful, looking cracks and cuts, and odd, circular shaped scabs that covered the kid's arms from his hands to his elbows. The cuts stretches and cracked with every move the kid made.

Todd winced and dropped his arms, pulling his shirt sleeves down.

"Uh, s-sorry, yo-"

"_Sorry_? You're _sorry_- ah! _Venez avec moi_- come 'ere, an' let Remy bandage t'ose!"

He dragged the stunned looking child towards his room, pushing him lightly onto the bed and digging out the first aid kit.

"_Petit_, you 'ave nothin' t' be sorry for!" he said, shaking his head.

"People... don't like seeing the scratches, yo," Todd muttered, looking away.

He sat on the floor in front of the bed and grabbed the kid's twitching hands, squeezing lightly.

"Todd, hun', Remy be your guard'yan, now," he said, staring into the kid's eyes seriously, "He's supposed t' be takin' care a you. Dis," he pushed the threadbare sleeves up, exposing the scabs and scratches, "is no' somet'ing you need to hide away, _petit_. Remy be needin' t' know dese t'ings."

Todd looked like he didn't know how to respond.

He gave the kid some space, leaning over to dig through his first aid kit. Luckily, none of the cuts looked deep enough to need stitches.

"I- you don't-"

He raised an eyebrow at the stuttering teen, ignoring the half formed words. Bandages were being swiftly wrapped around the skinny forearms, and, for some reason, Todd found reason to protest.

"Chil', don' you dare be saying dat Remy don' have t' do dis. You t'ink he don' know dat?"

He wagged a finger reproachfully at the child, cursing himself when he realized that letting go of half wrapped bandages caused them all to unwrap.

"Remy know he don' have t'. Remy don' care."

He finished one arm and moved onto the other, shaking his head at the sight. The kid's arms were practically torn to shreds.

"_Mon dieu_, chil'," he sighed, swiftly cleaning out a few infected-looking cuts, "What'd you do, take a weed-whacker t' your poor arms?"

Todd flushed, looking off to the side. The kid seemed incapable of holding eye contact for more than a minute or two at a time.

"I kinda got claws, yo," Todd muttered, raising the hand not trapped in his grasp and revealing narrow black nails, long and pointed.

"Add that to the fact that I scratch and pick when I'm nervous, or bored, or confused, or, well, just about anything, then..."

He looked at the small teen oddly.

"So you jus' claw up your hands an' don' even notice? Don' it hurt, _petit_?"

Todd shrugged.

"Not really. I have a high pain tolerance, yo."

..._So_ not asking right now.

"I don't even notice I'm doing it anymore," the child continued, arm twitching a little as the bandages tightened over it.

He made a mental note to watch the kid to make sure he wasn't ripping himself up anymore, and finished wrapping up the cuts.

"Dere," he said, standing up with a groan and the crack of joints, "All fix'd. Now, while Remy still has de first aid kit ou', anyt'ing else?"

"No..."

Todd fidgeted.

"Yes."

The kid shrugged off his shirt hesitantly, gaze darting nervously around the room.

He was halfway torn between feeling elated that the kid actually decided to trust him with something or horrified at _what_ had been entrusted to him.

"No' all of dis is from Mystique," he said, staring down at the myriad mixture of bruises, scrapes, gashes, and raised welts that covered the too-skinny frame. He shook himself out of his stupor and quickly gathered more bandages and antiseptic. And a camera.

"I'm an easy target for mutie haters, yo," Todd muttered, looking at him warily as he snapped pictures of the wounds, and barely even flinching as he wiped a peroxide covered gauze pad over some of the larger cuts afterwards, "I can't make things go boom or melt their eyes out of their sockets, so some of the kids at school take their hate of mutants in general out on me."

Remy was shaking with contained fury. Standing upright, Todd was barely 5'2, and couldn't weigh more than 95 pounds. The very idea that someone beat the kid up near constantly just because he was a mutant... he shook his head angrily, making sure that anger didn't extent to the hands that were gently bandaging possibly fractured ribs.

"If dis happens again," he said, voice low and quiet, "you come t' Remy, an' he be... takin' care of de problem, you unnerstand?"

Todd nodded quickly, eyes wide.

Remy calmed himself, forcing the anger off to the side to be dealt with when there wasn't a pathetically small, abused teenager in front of him.

"Dis is not righ'," he said, looking straight into the small teen's eyes, "Dis is no' fair. Dey have no righ' t' do dis t' you, d'you unnerstand? Dey're wrong. Dis is _wrong_."

Todd jolted under his hands, eyes darting around anxiously.

"I' doesn' matter whether you're mutant or human, man or animal, alive or dead. Dis is _wrong. _It's abuse, an' Remy won' le' it happen anymore. "

Todd didn't reply. He wasn't too surprised. If this had been going on for a while- and the scars and some oddly curved bones suggested it had- it was probably ingrained in the kid that it was all his fault, and that he deserved it.

Remy would just have to prove otherwise.

"Why don' you figh' back?" he asked, slightly confused.

He knew the kid wasn't the best fighter in the Brotherhood, but even he was capable of defending himself against mere humans...

"...Bad things happen when I fight back," came the blank answer, "I don't want to go accidentally snapping people's spines."

Todd _sounded _normal, but there was a peculiar emptiness in the kid's gaze that warned him that asking anymore would probably not be a good idea, for now.

"Well, now you have Remy," he said with a small smile, sealing the bandage corners to keep them from unraveling, "An' John, an' Piotr, an' Sabbs-"

"Wait, _Sabretooth_?" Todd yelped, "I'm pretty sure he _hates_ my _guts_-"

"Non, _petit_," he interrupted, "he doesn't. Trust Remy, if he 'ated you, you'd be ca' food."

He stood, handing the ragged shirt back to the young mutant.

"Remy t'inks you should push 'im a li'l more, jus' t' be sure," he laughed, gently pushing the kid out of the room and down the stairs, "C'mon, Remy don' t'ink you were ever actually introduced."

He pushed the suddenly shy mutant back into the kitchen, giving a small wave and a smile.

"Everyone, dis is Todd Tolandski, he's gonna be stayin' wit' us for a while. Todd, you already know all of dese guys."

Todd nodded and bowed politely, glancing at Remy out of the corner of his eye.

"It's an honour to be in the presence of such a pretty lady as you, yo," he said, and it was all Remy could to to keep from gaping like an idiot.

John had no such control.

".._.Lady_?" Sabretooth growled, looming up over the short kid, "Did you just call me a lady?"

Todd's eyes widened, and he had the perfect _'oh-shit-did-I-just-do-that'_ face on.

The kind of face that pops up when one asks after the due date of a baby that... doesn't exist.

_That _look.

"Oh- oh my god," Todd stuttered, staring at Sabretooth with wide eyes, "Oh my god, I'm _so_ sorry, yo, it's just- the long hair and the womanly figure- oh, I'm digging myself an even deeper hole, aren't I- I'm really sorry Ms- _Mr_ Creed, sir!"

John had collapsed, laughing himself into a coma, and he wasn't far behind. It was damn near impossible to keep a straight face, with the image of a chick-Sabretooth wandering around in his brain.

"_Oui_, Ms. Creed, you do 'ave a wom'nly figure," he choked out, trying to smother his laughter.

Sabretooth looked over at him, glaring hard enough to make him glad that laser eye beams weren't a part of the feral's mutation.

"Do you want to die?" the cat growled, claws twitching eagerly.

"No' particularly," he replied with a yelp, hiding behind the prostrate form of his lover.

"Then. Shut. Up."

Todd looked up with the perfect little angel face, frowning and shaking a remonstrative finger in his direction.

"Mr Gambit sir, it's not nice to make fun of others," the kid said reproachfully, pointing to Sabretooth, "You could have hurt his feelings!"

"Then what the hell were you doing, you little pipsqueak?" Sabretooth snarled, baring his teeth.

He matched gazes with Piotr, and the both grabbed one of the angry feral's arms before he could grab the little kid and shake him.

"That? Oh, that was pretending. Pretending's all right." the kid nodded, completely serious, "I needed to brush up on my acting skills, anyways. Pietro told me I was getting rusty."

Remy shook his head, slightly bewildered. This did not seem like the same kid he'd bandaged up less than fifteen minutes ago. That kid had been shy, and scared, and this one? Well, this one was the delinquent troublemaker he'd heard so much about. Yes, so technically he'd given his permission to push the large feral, but still...

He'd have to look for signs of MPD.

"_Petit_, your skills are as far from rusty as could be," he muttered, John nodding in agreement from his place on the floor.

"Can I still see them, by the way? Lance and Pietro?"

"O' course,_ petit_, you're still goin' t' de same school," he replied to the wide puppy eyes and begging hands, smacking John across the back of the head as his idiot of a boyfriend started choking on his laughter again, "And we're only a ten minute walk away."

Todd nodded, and he shoved John at the kid with orders to get themselves ready for bed.

"Wait, a _bedtime_, yo? How lame!" the young mutant whined, and he rolled his eyes in response.

"Sabbs gets... _cranky_ if 'e stays up pas' eleven. John doesn't go t' sleep for days if you mess his schedule up. Remy jus' likes t' sleep. We 'ave a bedtime. Deal wit' it."

Todd moaned and grumbled, but allowed John to drag him up the stairs. He watched with narrowed eyes.

Something about the kid's personality had made a complete 180 change, and he was clueless as to why. With all of his extended psychological experience, he was beginning to worry about potential bipolar disorder or borderline personality disorder. There was _something_ wrong with the kid, he just didn't know _what_ yet.

Obviously there was some sort of self harm involved, even if the kid didn't notice. The only thing he was sure about was the OCD, which was the reason Mystique flipped out on the kid in the first place, but even _that_ was sketchy. There were so many different types and causes, not to mention all of the comorbid disorders that came with it. For all he knew, the kid might not even have OCD! It could be Obsessive Compulsive _Personality_ Disorder.

He sighed as Piotr met eyes with him, recognizing the 'I need to speak with you' stare.

He'd gotten himself in deep with this one, that was for sure. He'd hoped that Colossus would not be the one to demand answers. The guy was... well, he always felt guilty after lying to him. Guilty! He didn't know how, but the iron giant had a way of making_ him_, Remy L'Beau, _Thief and Con Man Extraordinaire_, guilty.

...It _had_ to be a part of his mutation.

"Piotr," he said, nodding politely. He wasn't looking forward to this.

"He taps the doors before leaving," the taller man said, walking closer, keeping his voice low, "He has bandages all over his wrists. He cleaned all the water from the floor- no child I know does such a thing without being asked."

"He 'as band'ges all ov'r, Piotr," he muttered, shrugging, "Mystique did a number on de kid."

"You aren't saying anything."

He hated the fact that Piotr could see through all his little change topic/ say something and nothing tricks. It made fooling him practically impossible.

"Remy can' say nothin', Piotr," he sighed, "Can' an' won'. De kid 'as a hard enough time trustin' people as is. An'... Remy don' righ'ly know _what's_ wrong wit' de kid. No' yet."

Piotr didn't reply, just looked at him with those damn soul searching blue eyes that seemed to dig at every single piece of hidden information he possessed. The guy would make a great interrogator- he'd _guilt trip_ anybody into giving up their damn secrets.

"Jus'- jus' don' ask de kid about it, _allez bien_? If he starts talkin', listen, bu'- don' say anyt'ing t' anyone abou' wha' he tells you, no' even Remy. Ok?"

Piotr nodded quietly and left the room. He sighed again, glad that the metal mutant hadn't pushed too much, and that Sabretooth had already left. He was not in the mood for one of the feral mutant's hissy fits.

He climbed the stairs, curled up with his John, and went to sleep.

* * *

Ok! Wow, this is the longest chapter I've ever posted. Heh. Don't gert used to it, if I post up chapters like these, I'll run out of crap to post! :O

So, typical stuff, beg for feedback, blah blah blah, be grateful for me doing this instead of my homework, and all that shit. Not really. Yeah. I don't understand what I'm typing anymore, all I see are little squiggles where the letters should be. Haha. Auto correct rocks. Red lines and stuff. Red's a pretty colour. I like red. It's all... red and stuff. Yeah. Why is Todd so cute? He's, like, not cute, but cute at the same time. Pathetically-ugly-cute. I don't get it. I'm confuuuused. Haha. Poor Superboy. I wanna write a Superboy fanfiction. With... with the Question. Yeah. I think the Question would make a good SuperDOOPERDaddy. Not Superman, though, he's a dick. But, you know, not _Dick_, because Dick is Dick is Robin is Nightwing and- hey, wasn't he Batman at one point, too? Why is the batFAMILY so conFUUUUZing? Like, _convoluted_ and stuff. And the FLASHES are even worse- they've got people coming back to life through-through freaking TIME TRAVEL and shit! Barry and Wally and Bart and- haha, Bart.


	5. Chapter 5, Revised Edition

Ok, peoples, another chapter of Issues has arrived! If you are interested in my excuses for posting late, they're all at the bottom. Yup. And I only own this shitheap of a fanfiction.

* * *

"Rem'? Remy, wake up, it's Todd-"

He groaned, swatting at the night stand lamp blindly.

"Jho'?"

God, it was 2:43 in the damn morning. _2:43 AM_. Where did Mastermind keep his guns again...?

"Remy, Todd's having a nightmare or something, I can't wake him up-"

He shot upright, shaking his head to clear it.

"Wha'?"

He allowed Jon to drag him up and out of their room, down the hallway. Piotr was standing in the doorway of his own room, and Remy waved him off. If he had been reading the kid right at all, having a bunch of people in his room after waking up from a nightmare would not be helpful.

Todd was curled up in the small bed, whimpering fretfully. Poor kid. He was so quiet, though... John must have been up, checking on the kid to notice. Which, now that he was thinking it, was something that _he_ should have been doing...

He wondered how often the nightmares occurred.

"To', hun," he murmured, trying to wake the kid up with his voice only, "Wake up. I's jus' a dream, i's no' real, you're safe..."

He stretched out a hand, resting it lightly on a trembling shoulder. Todd flinched and whined pitifully, but didn't jerk away.

"S'ok, petit, you're safe here, i's jus' a dream, i's a'aigh'..."

He ran his fingers through tangled hair, speaking quietly, trying to draw the young mutant from what was obviously a horrible nightmare.

Todd jolted upright unexpectedly, eyes wide, and scrambled backwards into a corner, panting heavily.

"To', petit, i's ok, you're safe," he soothed, stretching out a hand, "Remy's no' gonna 'urt you, petit. Relax, relax. Dere we go, dat's righ'..."

He pulled Todd out of the corner hugged him close, trying to calm the terrified shaking.

"I's ok, petit..."

"G-gamb-bit?" the kid stuttered, "I- wha'-?"

"You were havin' a nigh'mare, Todd," he said, running fingers through the shaking child's hair again, noticing it seemed to calm him somewhat, "I's alrigh', I' was jus' a dream."

"I-I'm sorry, I-"

"Shh, you have nothin' t' apologize for," he interrupted, shaking his head, "I' was jus' a nigh'mare. Ev'ryone gets dem."

"I- I didn't mean to wake you up, yo," Todd muttered, wrapping thin arms around folded up legs, but not pulling away from his hold.

"You di'n't. John was checkin' up on you, makin' sure you were sleepin' ok. He saw dat you were havin' a nigh'mare an' came an' go' me," he said, hugging the kid a little closer.

"I- I don't understand," the kid whimpered, "I- I just-"

"Petit, i's alrigh'," he soothed, still petting the kid's hair, " Remy knows you're confused righ' now. You're scared, you don' know wha's goin' on. Tha's alrigh'. We'll take it slow. Go back t' sleep, you need i'."

He gave the kid one last hug, tucked him into bed, and sat on the floor next to him. He wanted to be close by in case the kid had another nightmare. He fell asleep almost instantly.

* * *

He groaned, tried to roll over... and crashed to the floor. Oh yeah, sleeping upright. Ow.

He sat up, rubbing at sore neck muscles, and glanced over to the bedside clock.

Mon Dieu.

It was six in the fucking morning. _Six_. In the_ Fucking. Morning._

Todd was staring at him oddly from the bathroom doorway, but he was too tired to really care.

"Oh mon _dieu_, s'il vous plaît me tuer. Il est s_ix heures du matin_, putain, je vais _mourir_. _Baiser_."

He crawled from the floor into the nearest bed, which so happened to be the kid's, and whined pathetically.

"Uh, Gambit?"

"Re-my," he groaned, "M'appelle est _Remy_."

"...Ok, Remy, then. How, exactly, am I getting to school?"

"Go ge' Piotr t' drive you, _he's_ a damn morning person," he grumbled, pulling the blankets over his head, "_Goodnigh-t._"

He fell back asleep.

* * *

Well, this was great. The only person he even partially knew was asleep, and, judging from the snoring coming from _his_ bed, wasn't likely to wake up anytime soon. Awesome.

Armed with his precious Ipod and a hoodie he'd stolen/borrowed from Lance, Todd edged out of his room warily, attempting to find Piotr, who was supposedly driving him to school.

"Lessee, this room or this one, yo?"

He knew the room around the corner, next to the staircase was a no-no, and the room across from his was Ga- Remy's and Pyro's, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember which room was which for the other two.

"Crap crap crap- um, eenie-meenie-miney-yo?"

Door on the right. Ok.

He knocked quietly, wincing with every holy-crap-that's-so-loud sound. Why did everything seem so freaking loud in the morning...?

The door opened up, and he gulped. Yep, wrong room.

"Hello, tassssty little frog-morsel," Sabretooth grinned down at him, showcasing a mouth full of very shiny, pointy teeth. God, the man had a mouth like a shark.

"Hi, Sabretooth, uh, you aren't still mad about the Missus thing, are you?" he laughed nervously, twitching, "Because, you're, uh, very manly, yeah, very manly figure you got there-"

He shut himself up before he could ramble anymore. Dear lord, he didn't want to end up a platter of frog legs, he still had a life to live! ...Albeit a rather pathetic one, but hey, beggars can't be choosers and all that-

"I'm just gonna go and find Piotr's room now-"

"I'm afraid he's not gonna be of much use to ya. Piotr's practically useless without three or four cups of 'Russian Coffee'. Don't tell Remy though, the man is still under the impression that Piotr's a morning person. What did you need him for?"

"I-kinda-need-a-ride-to-school?" he squeaked, feeling a knot of absolute 'get-the-fuck-out-of-there' building up in his gut.

The feeling only got worse when Sabretooth's grin got wider, baring fangs that he knew could probably gut him.

"I'll take ya. I'm all up and ready to go anyways."

Oh god, he really didn't want to be in an enclosed space with the feral mutant, but it was either that or hop to school...

"Uh, sure, yo. Thanks."

He had a feeling that he was gonna regret this. A lot.

* * *

Ten minutes of complete and utter terror later, he stumbled out of the car, falling and clinging to the precious ground like it was a lifeline.

Sabretooth pealed out of the drop-off, laughing insanely and nearly taking out a mom with a stroller on his way out.

Yep, he was still mad.

Dear god, he felt like throwing up. That had been the worst car ride he'd ever had the displeasure of experiencing, ever. And that included when Lance was teaching himself to drive!

"Todd! Hey, Todd, you ok? What's up with you?"

"Don't _ever_. Get into a car with Sabretooth. _Ever_," he panted, finally staggering to his feet, confident that the ground wouldn't suddenly decide to run from underneath him, "Their damn house is _thirty minutes away_ and we made it here in _ten_."

Lance grabbed his arm to steady him, looking him over worriedly.

"Todd, what happened? Mystique dragged you out of there and we-"

He coughed as he was speed-tackled from behind, nearly falling into Lance.

"Ohmygod-Toddareyouok-wesawyouget-getdraggedoffbyMystiqueand-and-andshewasyellingandthen-we-weheardyouscreamand-ohgodohgod-"

With Lance's help, he managed to detach the distraught Pietro from his back, though the effort left him wheezing. Damn, his ribs were killing him, and the super-hug hadn't really helped.

"Calm down, yo, I'm fine," he tried to brush it off, grinning slightly, "You know Mystique. She was probably on the rag or something."

Lance glared down at him, making the differences in their height even more obvious.

"_Todd Rowen Tolandski_, you do _not_ lie to me," the taller teen growled, narrowing his eyes, "How bad is it."

He gulped and looked away. He hated it when Lance used his 'Daddy Voice'. It always made him feel like a little kid- although, with his own 5' dwarfed by the 6' teen, he already _looked_ like one.

...There were seriously people who thought he was Lance's _son._ God, that was just... kinda disturbing, sometimes.

"It's not that bad," he muttered, "Bruises, welts, a couple of cracked ribs... Oh, and she was gonna strangle me, but that's all over now, so-"

"_What_?"

He winced. Maybe he shouldn't have told them like that... Yeah, in hindsight, easing them into it was probably a better idea. Oops.

"Well, Mystique was going to kill me. She- she had her hands wrapped around my throat and everything..."

He shivered. God, he'd come so close to actually dying-!

"But then Gambit walked in, and, I don't know, promised to take me off her hands or something. Next thing I know, I've been carted off to the Acolyte headquarters, fed, and bandaged up. Apparently I'm living with them now."

Huh. It sounded really odd when he said it out loud, didn't it?

Lance, of course, was trembling in rage. The world rocked a little underneath their feet, and he stumbled a little, only to be pulled into a hug.

"You- you-! I am _never_ letting you out of my sight again, do you hear me? She almost-!"

Lance let go of him to tug at the collar of his hoodie, and saw the dark, finger shaped bruises that wrapped around his neck.

The world began shaking in earnest.

"That _bitch_! I'll _kill_ her! She had _no right_-!"

He wrapped his arms around the distraught teen, trying to calm him down.

"C;mon, Lance, I told you, I'm fine, yo. Ya need ta relax before you bust a blood vessel up there, got it?"

He yelped as he was pulled into a tight hug. The ground stopped rocking, though, so he supposed he could deal with the crushing grip Lance had around him.

"Never letting you out of my sight," the older teen muttered, wincing and moving a hand up to his head.

"See, I told you! Now look, you have a headache, yo."

He saw Summers close by, leaning up against a brick wall, watching them. Oh well, they weren't doing anything wrong, the brat could just go shove it up his ass.

Pietro fluttered around them both, one second hugging him, the next shaking his finger at Lance, and back again. He seemed panicky, though, and kept hugging him, almost like the speedster was making sure he was still there.

"I'm fine," he repeated, pulling away from them both, "And, so far, the Acolytes are... nice, if you can believe it. Gambit is, anyways. I haven't really been around the others too much, so..."

"I... Todd, did..."

Pietro grimaced, slowing his brain enough to match his tongue.

"Did-my-father-have-anything-to-do-with-this?"

He shook his head. From what he'd seen, Magneto was just oblivious to the whole thing. No surprise, really, he spent all of his time locked up in an office doing paperwork, so he knew next to nothing about his actual teams. He told Pietro as much, and smiled when the speedster seemed to relax a little.

Pietro always worried about whether his father had anything to do with Mystique's actions. He knew- they all knew that Mystique was having someone screw around with their memories, but with no way of knowing what was real and what wasn't...

Lance grabbed Todd by the back of his stolen hoodie and turned him in the direction of the school building, pushing him forwards.

"C'mon, you little brat, time to go to class," the taller teen said, sighing at the expected whine, "Yeah, yeah, shut up. And I want you to make at least three A's today, got it? Your average could handle a little boosting."

"But they always think I'm cheating," he whined, crossing his arms, "And they make me do it, like six times to make sure I'm not!"

"Well, maybe if you didn't keep your average in the low seventies by failing everything, then getting, like, seven A's in a row they wouldn't be so suspicious, now, would they?"

They walked into school, failing to notice the glasses wearing teen who'd heard every word.

* * *

He ran through the hallways, cursing quietly. Damn, he'd promised Lance he'd be on time in all his classes today, but he'd gotten distracted by the cheerleaders selling those lollipops- god, he loved those things...

His train of thought was interrupted by him running straight into a brick wall.

Oh, wait, that wasn't right. Brick walls don't lift you up by the collar of your shirt and shake you, do they... Duncan Matthews shook him again, harder this time, and he grinned.

Well, he was pretty close. The only real difference between a brick wall and Matthews was that the wall was smarter.

"You think running into me is funny, you little punk?" the jock growled, slamming him into the lockers.

"No, but I think your face is, yo."

God, why couldn't his mouth just... not work? Or, better yet, why did his brain have trouble sorting the 'gonna-get-you-killed' thoughts from the 'appropriate-in-this-situation' thoughts?

"What did you say?"

Oh, wow, he was really far off the ground, wasn't he?

"I'm gonna kill you, you disgusting mutie!"

"Duncan, dear," he replied, silently horrified by the words coming out of his mouth, "the word is _mutant_. I know you have a hard time remembering such a long word because of your decrease brain capacity, but practice makes perfect, yo!"

He reared back and kicked the jock in the nuts.

Matthews dropped him and collapsed to the floor, cupping himself.

"I-I'm gonna kill you, you little fag!"

"That would sound so much more intimidating if your voice wasn't three octaves higher than normal," he snickered, skipping away.

God, he was so happy and he didn't really know why. Usually a lollipop wouldn't affect him like this... But his moods had been up-and-down a shitload lately. Like, _way_ up-and-down. Maybe it was the whole near-death experience thing. Rush of endorphins, blah blah blah, and now he was ecstatic over stupid things. Like seeing Fuzzy. Yeah, _stupid_ things.

Or maybe he was just developing another issue to add to his already rather impressive collection. Either way...

"Wazzup?" he greeted happily, waving.

Fuzzy grinned at him, flashing needle-point fangs. For some reason, they were just... creepier than Sabretooth's. Maybe it was the fact that they were still visible, even with the holo-watch?

Whatever, they were still fucking creepy.

"Todd. I vanted to zhank you on behaff of Muties everyvhere. I vould _loff_ to be able to do zhat."

"Well, why don't you? It'd be easy for you, yo. Pop in, kick in nuts, pop out."

He walked backwards towards his locker, trying to make sense of it. If he had teleportation powers... hehe...

Fuzz-butt shrugged, absently yanking him out of the way of a trashcan before answering.

"No vone knows I'm a mutant. Yet."

"How'd you manage that, yo?"

He was a little surprised. As far as he'd seen, Nightcrawler had been at every battle they'd ever had, and had been photographed just as many times. How had he gotten away with it?

Nightcrawler just lifted his wrist, pointing to the watch that rested there.

"Every time I've been photograffed, I haven't had zhis t'ing on. No vone hass ever seen me teleport in zhis form, eizher. Nozhing to connect zhis," he gestured to the illusion, "to zhe fuzzy blue teleporting freak, is zhere?"

"Hah! Bet that's nice. You're X-geek buddies must be happy for you, yo."

Nightcrawler looked at him, confused.

"Vhy vould zhey?"

He stared back, just as confused.

"Are you serious? Why _wouldn't_ they? You don't have that stigma over your head, yo. You can get into the places mutants can't, ask questions that wouldn't be answered. You can go ask to see Kelley himself, posing as a concerned citizen, and get _major_ insider info!"

He paused.

"Oh, wait, you guys don't do that. Huh. Well, what happened to the 'friends forever, we're so happy for you' shit?"

Kurt shrugged, not looking at him.

"As of right now, all of zhem but Scott see it as a betrayal, and zhey are no longer zpeaking to me."

He scoffed. Of course. The X-geeks seemed all goody two shoes, but they didn't even follow most of the crap they spewed out of their mouths. They were all idiots.

"So stupid, yo. They'd be smarter not to alienate you. You know where they sleep and you can get there and away in a blink of an eye."

Kurt just blinked at him.

"C'mon, you can hang with me."

Kurt was so surprised, he ran into an open locker door.

"I- eh- vas?"

"You. Can hang out. With me," he said slowly, talking to Kurt like a particularly stupid dog, "I'm bored, you share most of my classes, and I really, really wanna play tag again."

Damn, that had to have been the funnest game of tag _ever_. Of _all time_.

Kurt still looked a little shocked.

"Um, o-ok. As long as zhis isn't some sort of joke!"

"Nope."

He fished his textbooks from his locker before turning to the taller teen, smirking.

"The joke is... Your locker is on the other side of the school, you have the same homeroom as me -which is right over there, by the way- class starts in-" he checked his watch, "-about a minute, and you are currently unable to use your powers. Bye-bye!"

He grinned and ran to class, laughing as Kurt yowled out his name angrily.

"I'll get you back, Tolandzki!"

* * *

Ok. So. First things first, please feel free to point out any mistakes you find. The little toolbar with all the nifty buttons is somehow missing from my fanfiction edit page.

Now, on with the excuses! I've been absolutely swamped lately. And I went camping, in the wilderness (which doesn't come with wifi). Yeah. And also, please forgive the rant I went on last chapter. Apparently, if my migraines are bad enough, Excedrin doesn't work all the way. What that means is that the headache leaves, but the haloes-around-the-lights, funky colours, and room-spinning doesn't. It was like having a horridable migraine without the migraine. O-o And, you know, I don't even remember anything I did that night. My friend called me up and said, "You know you posted some really strange shit, right?" No, darling no I did not. XD

Now, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and I'll try to post the next one up as soon as possible!


	6. Chapter 6, REvised Edition

I'm sorry this took so long to upload. I'm really struggling- this was one of the parts that really, really needed to be re-written, very badly. I hope it's at least a little better than the old version~!

Misgiving Writer, thank you so much for your support! And all of you who reviewed, I appreciate it more than you'll ever know! :D

* * *

Class was... class. He sighed and stared out the window, grimacing as his math teacher droned on and on... and on... and on some more...

Homeroom had been a joke- it always was, it was basically a placeholder to keep them in Hell- ahem, school- longer. English was boring, 'cause he'd already read the book, like, six times, and math? Math was... math.

He flicked a piece of paper and hit Fuzz-butt in the back of the head, wiggling his fingers when the blue-furred demon whirled around to glare at him.

_'Sooo bored,_' he'd written, and he waited for an answer back eagerly. Anything to keep from rotting his brain on the horror that was math.

He jerked out of his daze when he was hit in the nose with a ball of paper.

_'I'm trying to focus D:'_

He grinned. Well, he didn't want his new friend to become a stick in the mud, did he? He wrote back quickly, grinning as the note was flicked and accepted. He felt... oddly comfortable around Fuzz-bucket, for some reason.

He was always more at ease around other kids than adults- he could fight back against kids, after all- but he still found himself acting out more and more around Kurt than he did with anyone else besides Lance and Pietro, and he wasn't too sure what to think about that.

_'Well, I'm distracting you. And myself. From dying of boredom.'_

Kurt glared again, but flicked the paper back, much to his appreciation. He needed to stop thinking about things. When he thought about things, they made him confused and irritable.

_'Haha. Math never killed anyone.'_

_'Tell that to Giordano Bruno.' _**(1)**_  
_

He snickered at the odd look he got in reply, shrugging.

_'One, I'm surprised you actually paid attention in history, two, he wasn't burned for being a mathematician, he was burned for supporting supposed pantheism.'_

_'Yeah, but he used math to prove that supposed pantheism, didn't he?'_

Kurt didn't respond. Which was just fine, because the bell rang about a minute later anyways, so he just skipped over to the still sitting teen, bouncing impatiently.

"C'mon, you're sitting with me at lunch today!"

"I- uh, T... Todd? I do not zink zis is a very gut idea," Kurt muttered, looking almost like a kicked dog, with the way he was hunched over, "... I... your friends... zey do not like me very much, do zey?"

He snorted and dragged the fuzzy mutant to his regular table at the cafeteria anyways, waving a free hand around dismissively.

"No big deal," he replied, "They won't care, yo."

He shoved the disguised mutant into a free seat, grinning slightly at the confused expressions on Lance and Pietro's faces. He liked hanging out with them- being around other people made the bitter self-hatred go away for a while. He sat down next to the other mutant, pulling a small lunch out of his backpack and laying everything out, making sure to tap it down twice on the table.

"Kurt's gonna sit with us today, ok?"

He noticed the sometimes-blue mutant looking at him oddly, but ignored it. If he didn't want to hang out alone, the tapping thing was something Kurt would have to get used to, just like Lance and Pietro had.

"...O-kaaaay. And what happened to the whole 'X-Men are our enemies' thing? Is that just... gone, now?" Lance drawled, a little sarcastically, in his opinion, accepting a lunch tray from a there-and-back Pietro, "Because I thought for _sure_ that we had decided to at least try to, I dunno, be decent arch-enemies and what not."

He shrugged, offering the uncomfortable mutant sitting next to him a chocolate covered cricket, which, to his surprise, was accepted happily.

"Huh, Fuzzy likes bugs. Who'da thunk it... oh! Well, Kurt's so-called 'buddies' won't talk to him 'cause he won't tell the world he's a big blue fuzzy dude, yo. I asked him if he wanted to hang out with us for a few days, and he said OK."

Lance looked over at Kurt, and he got ready to jump in case an altercation did break out.

"They don't know you're a mutant?" the earth-powered teen asked curiously, gesturing around to indicate the 'they' in question.

"Nein. Zhe image-inducer... Vell, I haff not had it on vhenever zhe X-Men battle. It is hard to connect a fuzzy blue freak to a fairly normal-looking teen."

He grinned slightly as Lance snorted, obviously coming to the same conclusion that he had.

"The other X-geeks are idiots," the older teen said bluntly, "Never piss off the guy that knows where you sleep and can get in and out with the blink of an eye. Then they go off and preach all that stuff about unity and crap- hypocrites."

Kurt just shrugged, picking at his food.

"Yes, vell, Zcott is zhe only vone of zhem still speaking vith me. All zhe ozhers see it as a betrayal."

Kurt pointed over to the x-geeks' usual table.

"See?"

Todd turned to look, and met eyes with a glaring Kitty Pryde. She turned towards her friends and started whispering obviously about something, angrily glancing over at their table every few minutes. He looked away in time to see Kurt wince and press a hand to his temple.

"Headache?" he asked, slightly concerned.

Unlike most of the X-men, he didn't really see a _reason_ to hate each other. So what if their views were different? To him, there was no point in hating, in fighting. In his mind, they needed to stick together more than anything else- mutants were persecuted and ostracized enough by normal humans, they didn't need to fight amongst themselves too. He'd never really had an opinion, never really had a _choice_ about what side to be on, so he'd never really had a reason to develop hatred or anything like that towards any of the X-men. In fact, he quite liked Kurt and Scott, though with Scott it was more because the older teen had saved his ass from Duncan more than once...

"Jean is yelling. Very loudly. Directly into my brain," the blue mutant sighed, obviously used to the treatment, "She's asking me '_vhat zhe hell I zhink I'm doing, sitting vith you_'," he mocked in a high voice, grimacing after, "I am trying to ignore her, but..."

He frowned.

"Doesn't that chick have any boundaries?" he griped, contemplating throwing a slime ball in the red-haired girl's direction, but settled for a rock-hard roll instead, "Oi, ginger! Get the fuck out of his head!"

Kurt just slammed his head into the table.

"Sie verdammte schlampe. _Ja_, rief ich du eine hündin- nein, halt den mund, raus aus meinem kopf- I will tell the Professor about this!" _(You fucking bitch. Yes, I called you a bitch- no, shut your mouth, out of my head-)_

He and Lance stared, confused, at Pietro's sudden laughter before he turned away, tapping Fuzzy on the back. He didn't know german, he had no idea what the foreign teen was saying, but it seemed like Pietro did.

"Hey, lunch is almost over anyways, yo, you wanna just go?"

He got an eager nod in response. He gathered up the trays, dumped them in the drop off, and walked down the hallway towards his locker with Fuzz-butt, who seemed to get more relaxed the further away from Jean he was.

"Does she do that often?" Lance asked, creeping up behind them. Oh, and he recognized that peculiar glint in the older teen's eyes. Figures the impromptu mommy of the Brotherhood would immediately start getting all protective.

"Ja, all zhe time. Vhenever someone does somezhing she doesn't like- poor Zcott, zhough, he gets it zhe worst..."

He jumped a little as the bell rang, but quickly gathered his books and headed off to his next class, leaving the poor blue mutant to get interrogated by Lance. Great, it seemed as if the older teen was now spreading his maternal instincts to people beyond their odd little family...

* * *

Gambit mumbled under his breath, grabbing a stuffed manila folder, stepping out of his car, and walking up to the door of a decent sized house in a neighborhood filled with decent sized houses. There was hardly anything to distinguish this house from all the others, besides the abundance of flowers and odd metal garden sculptures made out of conveniently sharp bits.

He knocked, expecting it to, and therefore not creeped out by, the door creaking open by itself, and walked inside, up a small spiral staircase, and straight to the owner's office.

"Gambit?" Magneto asked, startled, "What are you doing here? It's not even past one yet!"

He grimaced slightly. It was kind of sad, he supposed, when even his _boss_ didn't expect him to get up earlier than two in the afternoon... But, since he was usually out on late assignments, the just-as-late mornings were perfectly justified. Yeah. _Perfectly_ justified.

"Yeah, well, Gambi' b' needin' t' talk t' you 'bout somet'ing. Somet'ing importan'."

Erik Lehnsherr narrowed his eyes and set his papers aside, paying full attention to the Acolyte before him.

"And what is so important as to prompt even _you_ out of bed before noon, Gambit?"

The metal controller gestured for Remy to sit, which he did, placing his folder of evidence on the desk in front of him.

"I's 'bout Mystique, sir. She's gone t' far dis time."

He shook a little, anger building up as he laid out the pictures he'd taken of Todd's battered body, hands jerking as he resisted the urge to charge the little slips of paper. He spoke the next sentence softly, but his accent thickened with anger and he had trouble not spitting out the words.

"Dis 's Todd T'landski. 'E's a Brot'er'ood mem'er, 'long wit' y'r s'n." _(This is Todd Tolandski. He's a Brotherhood member, along with your son.)_

Erik grabbed the nearest pictures, thumbing through them, outwardly calm. The warping metal around the room belied his anger, though.

Gambit shivered as the chair he was sitting in shook, metal appliances and knick knacks trembling as if caught in an earthquake.

"What. Happened."

He could never figure out how Magneto managed to look perfectly calm on the outside while he was completely furious on the inside. If not for the mutant's powers, there would be no trace of his true emotions, and for someone who'd studied psychology and human body language since age 5, it was unnerving to Gambit that he couldn't read the other man.

"Todd's a stree' kid, sir. 'E was a'ready screwed up, bu' Mystique... bein' wit' Mystique messed 'im up more. She foun' ou' 'bout some issues de kid be havin', an', well, tried t' kill him."

Several things were crushed, only to reform and be crushed again. Now, there were even outward signs of Magneto's rage, which was just a testament to how truly angry the man was.

"Will he require hospitalization?"

"N-no, sir," he answered, and as hard as he tried, he couldn't keep the small stutter from his voice, "Remy picked 'im up an' took care'a 'im. Not'ing broken, only a few cracked ribs. Remy's a li'l worried 'bout de kid's weight, but he don' t'ink i' needs hospit'lization, no' yet, anyways."

Erik calmed himself down, allowing the warping metal to fall back to their proper positions. Remy wasn't sure how, but the man had almost complete control over himself and his emotions. It scared him almost as much as the display of power.

Here, sitting in front of him, was a man that could do anything he wanted. He was one of the most powerful mutants in the world, and in complete control of himself, to boot. Add to that a near infectious charisma, and a way of making even the most insignificant person feel important, and you had a potential world ruler on your hands.

He was sure that, if Erik truly wanted it, he could have the world in his hands. Under his control. And no one would be able to do anything about it.

"I apologize, Gambit, for my loss of control."

Erik took a deep breath before glancing through the rest of the pictures, this time keeping his powers firmly dormant.

"Mystique did this?"

He nodded.

"So says Todd, an' Remy 'has no reason t' doubt de kid."

He accepted the folder as Magneto handed it back to him, Erik's hands visibly shaking with rage. Harming children was one of the few ways to get into Magneto's real shit list, and one of the things the powerful mutant would not stand for in his little organization.

"And the other children in her care?"

He shrugged a little.

"No' sure. Remy be t'inkin' Todd b' takin' de brunt of her rage, but Remy don' t'ink de ot'ers are bein' treated very well eit'er."

He could feel Erik's iron control slipping again, and knew it had something to do with Pietro. The child was the light of his boss's life, and the powerful mutant loved the kid more than anything else in the world. To find out that he was being neglected, maybe even abused, right under his nose was probably a major sore point.

"This will be taken care of. Pick up the children after school, they will be staying with you until other accommodations are found-"

"Dey c'n just stay wit' us, sir, we 'ave plenty of room," he interjected. It would be better for them all to stay in one spot, and he wasn't sure if Magneto could find them a place where they would not be separated.

Erik nodded, pulling open a drawer and removing a small silver card.

"Then the children will stay with you indefinitely. Allowances will be made to your budget, and I will be giving you free reign for the next few days to get them any supplies they may need."

The metal bender stopped and glared at him, shaking the card in his direction.

"What they _need_, Gambit, and what they want, _within reason_. No pool tables, no huge television sets, no installing bowling alleys in the house. And, for God's sake, _don't_ let Pyro get a hold of the credit card."

Said credit card was handed to him with a final warning glare, and he pocketed it with a grin.

"Now, Gambit..."

He sighed.

"Yes, sir?"

He resigned himself to answering questions he was sure he shouldn't be answering. Hopefully, Todd either didn't find out, or wouldn't see it as a betrayal of trust. If possible, he would have refused to answer, but Magneto was boss, and the metal bender had a major say in the kid's long-term fate.

"What exactly are these issues and why did Mystique feel the need to kill a child over them?"

He sprawled out in his chair, trying to think of the best way to answer the question.

Todd... was a confusing child. He'd been watching him for less than a day, and he could already identify several potentially problematic things. The sudden switches to and from apathy, terror, and excitement, seeming trust and distrust, it all hinted at possible personality and emotional disorders that could become dangerous if left undiagnosed.

God, why couldn't this be _simple_ for once? He wasn't a legitimate psychologist, hell, he didn't even have a real college degree! He'd learned everything he knew on the streets, and dealing with kids who'd lived on the streets. He had all practical knowledge, and right now, he wasn't sure if that was enough.

"De kid is seriously screwed in de head, sir," he finally stated, not sure how to phrase it any other way, "Remy don' know anyt'ing 'bout where de kid was b'fore Mystique pulled 'im outta de gutter, but it had t'ave been a bad, bad place."

Erik sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

"How, Gambit? Specifics, I need _specifics_."

"Sir, Remy don' really have any," he explained, shrugging, "De kid definitely 'as OCD, but ot'er dan dat? Remy jus' don' know. Not enough time t' tell, yet."

"And... the others? Alvers and my son?"

"From wha' Remy's seen? Your kid looks like 'e's de least screwed up. Remy can' tell f'r sure, no' wit'out talkin' t' dem one-on-one, but dere's practic'lly no way Lance made it outta de system wit'out _some_ problems."

Magneto just allowed himself to fall forwards, head clunking against the desk loudly.

"How could I not have_ noticed_," the older mutant growled, "How could I have allowed her near my- near the children? Xavier was right, god_damn_ the man, he's _always_ right..."

Remy tentatively patted the distraught man on the back.

"Gambit, you are responsible for them. Pick them up after school today and go with them to get their things, I will meet you there. I do not want them alone with her at all, if possible."

"Unnerstood, sir!"

"You are dismissed."

He stayed behind a moment longer, lingering in the doorway.

"Remy'll take care of dem, sir."

"I know."

Erik groaned and smacked his head against the desk again after Gambit had left.

How? How had he been so foolish? Damn Xavier, damn the man for being right once again! The professor had warned him that something wasn't right with the Brotherhood, but he'd dismissed the concerns as simply that, concerns. Worries with no truth to them.

Even _Gambit_ had warned him, and he hadn't listened! The younger mutant had told him that Mystique was less than stable, but he'd brushed it off!

"Verdammt!"_ (Damn it!)_

He mentally tossed one of his metal decorations against a wall, following it up with another.

How had he been so stupid? How had he been so damn blind? And now these kids were hurting- his _son_ was hurting because of her-!

Ohh, he needed to go do something. _Now_. Before he blew a hole in his wall. His phone came hurtling into the room and he caught it out of the air, hitting a speed dial number that was still there, after all this time.

"Ah, Charles, old friend. How do you feel about a game of chess?"

* * *

**(1) Giordano Bruno was an Italian friar who was also a philosopher, mathematician, and astronomer. He was the first to propose the sun a Star, and that there were an infinite number of potentially inhabited worlds. He was burned at the stake for heresy and pantheism. **

So, chapter Six, the Revised edition. Thoughts? Is it better, worse- some of the parts where Gambit's accent was the thickest, I added translations- was that a good idea? Do you want more, less, what?

Oh, and any Germans or German speaking people out there, I got my German from Google translate, so if you have corrections, please supply them! i know Google Translate is rarely correct!


	7. Chapter 7

Oh wow. Well, I'm now almost out of pre-written stuff, so updates may come a little less frequently- what am I kidding, updates were never frequent anyways. But yeah, they may become even less frequent, and more erratic, because I have about one more chapter's worth of material written and then it goes from- "Crap writer's block, oh look, pre-written chapters" to "Oh shit writer's block, what the hell do I do now?"

So yeah. Sorry. Take an extra long chapter as a gift (bribe)

* * *

Class was _boring_. Kurt had come rushing in, late, after lunch, looking half disturbed, half relieved, and hadn't responded to any of his flicked little messages. In the one class he'd shared with Lance since then, the rock-headed teen hadn't told him anything about what had happened, either.

"Kurt," he whined, "Kuuuurt. I'm booooored, yo. Pay attention to me."

The blue haired male snorted, looking down at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Demanding, aren't you," Kurt smirked, shaking his head, "Vell, vhat do you vant from me? Magic tricks? Jokes?"

He shrugged, following the older teen to his locker.

"I dunno, yo. What'cha doin'?"

Kurt rolled his eyes, but responded anyways.

"Getting mein books."

"Why, yo?"

The blue haired teen heaved a sigh, shoving the now-gotten books into a bag before resigning himself to playing babysitter to a 14 year old toddler.

"Because I need zhem for mein homevork."

"Why, yo?"

This wasn't so bad. It was easier than watching Bobby and the other X-Kids, that was for sure. Kurt was used to patience-murdering jokes and pranks, not just 'why'. Actually, the 'why' game was probably the _least_ annoying of anything he'd had to deal with, Sadly enough. He still couldn't look at scrabble tiles the same way, after all, and syrup was such a bitch to clean out of fur...

"So I can take zhem home to _do_ mein homevork."

Todd hopped around in circled, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"Why, yo?"

"So I can get a gut grade."

"Why, yo?"

He moved away from his locker, laughing a little as the skinny, childish mutant grabbed his hand to keep him from 'running away', he guessed. He couldn't imagine that Lance or Pietro would put up with this little game very well, and in truth Todd probably did have to make sure the usual players didn't try to escape. He was glad there just wasn't any slime involved. Or syrup. God, the _syrup_-

"So I can pass mein classes."

"Why, yo?"

"So I can pass zhe school year."

"Why, yo?"

"So I can pass high school."

They stopped at Todd's locker and collected the younger mutant's books, dodged flailing, most likely high cheerleaders, and made their way to the front of the school. Kurt looked dubiously over to the smaller teenager before grabbing half of Todd's books and carrying them himself, flicking the younger on the nose when he tried to protest.

The kid looked like the weight of the books would snap him in half if he tried to carry them any further, and Kurt absently wondered if Todd had been sick or something recently, because the younger teen certainly looked like he'd dropped too much weight too fast, and the dark circles around Todd's eyes and the way the bones poked through the pale skin just emphasized the hypothetical illness.

Todd looked like he was about to protest, but another flick to the nose shut him up, for about three seconds.

"Why, yo?" the younger teen said, pouting slightly.

"So I can go to college."

"Why, yo?"

"So I can get a gut job."

"Why, yo?"

He nodded at Lance, who was making his way over to them, before answering Todd's ninth question, which really was nothing. Jamie had managed to string together thirty-seven in a row, once, and the only reason why the kid had stopped was because Kurt had bribed him with ice-cream.

"So I can be an upztanding member of ze American society."

"Why, yo?"

Lance stopped short, looking at them with a disturbed expression on his face.

"...Are you playing the 'why' game?" the older teen asked.

"Ja."

"He's already beaten you by three questions, Lance," Todd grinned, and Lance sighed, reaching out an arm to pat Kurt on the back.

"Well, I guess this means we'll be seeing you around more often, then," the senior said, shaking his head, "If you haven't beaten him up or killed yourself yet, then I don't think you're going to any time soon."

He was getting the feeling that the 'why' game wasn't really a game... More like a test.

"Whyyyyy, yo?" Todd whined, tugging on his sleeve.

"So I don't get deported," he answered absently, pondering.

The 'why' game was a test. Why was he being tested? It seemed like the more questions he answered without snapping, the more relaxed Todd got. The whole situation was strange, and he was pretty sure he was over thinking it, at least to some degree. Yes, that was probably it. He was over thinking things, that's all. He really needed to stop doing that...

"Why, yo?"

"So they-"

_'So they don't send me back to my _family_.'_

Shit. He couldn't explain that, didn't know how to explain that. _'Oh, yeah, Todd, forgot to mention- my mom's a psychopathic bitch who threw me over a cliff and my abusive adopted family used me as a circus freak. Oh, and that psychopathic bitch? She's your den mother.' _He could really see that going over quite well- or not.

"...I give up. You vin, Todd," he muttered.

Maybe he wasn't over thinking things. Maybe Todd _was_ testing him. He did the same thing with the Professor, when he first got here. Testing. Pushing. Seeing how much he could get away with. Seeing what would push his new caretaker over the edge, so he'd know what _not_ to do in the future. The Professor had, in the end, proven to be at least relatively safe. He didn't think Todd had had that luxury very often.

Todd looked at him strangely.

"Sorry, yo."

He laughed, pushing as much fake emotion into his voice as he could. He could usually get away with it, faking enough that everyone would leave it alone. It had happened enough times at the Mansion, after all; someone would do or say something, or there'd be some other trigger that left him silently panicking and struggling not to 'port into a closet somewhere. No one ever noticed- he was good at faking.

"Vhat do you have to be sorry for?" he smiled, "I don't have an ansver to your question. Zhat means you vin, right?"

Todd just looked at him. Not really stared, but... looked at him oddly, like the other mutant was staring into his soul and understanding what he saw there. It creeped him out.

"Kurtie-"

And that was a trigger_,_ that damned nickname. He hated it, hated it! He shut his eyes tightly, willing away the voices that jeered and snarled at him in his head,_ 'Little Demon, Bad News, Killed your mommy, Didn't you?'_ -jeering and laughing and yelling out those awful little rhymes-

"Ruhig sein," _(shut up)_ he growled lowly, though whether it was to Todd or the voices in his head, he was unsure, "Do _not_ call me zhat. _Never_."

He immediately felt bad when Todd flinched away, though the motion was nearly unnoticeable. Todd didn't know, and he had no right to snap at the other teen, not at all. It wasn't Todd's fault he was incapable of controlling his own reactions, or that he was weak enough to let a pathetic nickname bother him so much.

"Sorry, I... I didn't mean to snap, but... please, do not call me zhat," he said quietly, shoulders up, head down.

"Okay."

Todd completely dropped the subject, and elbowed Lance in the side when the older teen went to say something, but he could tell there was some curiosity there. Of course there would be. How many people freak out at being called a nickname?

"It is an annoying nickname," he said, grinning slightly, "Surely you have vone? Toddish?"

He could tell that neither of the boys believed that was the real reason he'd... flipped out slightly, but whatever. The mood was somewhat lightened, and the awkward silence was broken. And, better yet, both of them were distracted. Or, at least, they would be, as soon as he made some sort of stupid joke or another. He was good at that.

"Oh shut up, Fuzz-Butt," Todd retaliated, poking the normally furry blue mutant in the side.

Todd could tell that there was something hidden there, but he wasn't gonna pry. He'd hate it if someone pried into his life, after all, and he was sure the other would like it no better.

"How ovten do you stare at my butt, Toddish? You seem to comment on it frequently enough," Kurt snorted, poking him back.

"W-what?"

Th light poke managed to send the shocked teen to the floor, and he stared up at the usually-blue mutant with wide eyes.

"St-stare at your- no! No I don't- not at all- I don't stare at your butt!"

At Kurt's somewhat offended look, he stuttered some more, regretting his tendency to babble when he got nervous.

"I mean, not that it's not a nice butt-"

Lance started howling with laughter, nearly falling to the floor beside him, and he scowled, crossing his arms and pouting.

"No vone can resist zhe fuzzy dude, Toddish," Kurt grinned, a little less... fakely this time, wiggling the discussed piece of flesh rather whorishly, "Even zhe most straight of men will fall at my feet!"

He groaned as the older teen laughed evilly and fell backwards, letting his head conk against the floor.

"When you two are done laughing at my embarrassment, I'd like to bring to your attention to the fact that my knight in shiny black Ferrari armour is here," he snarked, rolling over onto his stomach and waving at his new guardian.

"Shiny black _what_?" Lance yelped, completely forgetting whatever they'd been laughing at to whip his head around and ogle the arrival, " Oh _god_ look at the pretty car."

Kurt's face, surprisingly, had a similar look upon it (as in, his mouth was open and face covered in drool, just like Lance's), and both boys stared as the shiny black Ferrari pulled smoothly into the pickup lane.

"Oi, petit! Grab Rockhead and 'is girlfriend and hop in! We gotta go!" Remy called, revving the engine in a way that, if possible, made Lance and Kurt drool more.

"Never took you for a car buff, Fuzzy," he smirked, allowing (with hesitation) the older teen to pull him to his feet before waving Lance off to find Pietro. For being a goddamn speedster, the tallest of the three was always late.

"Who vouldn't be vone, growing up in Europe?" Kurt replied, gesturing wildly, "Vhat vith zhe Lamborghinis, zhe Audis, zhe Merzades, zhe Porsches-"

"Alright, I get it, I get it," he grimaced, shaking his head, "You grew up with amazing cars, while all of us poor Americans had to deal with rustbuckets. Well, I'll have you know-"

"Petit, c'mon! We don' 'ave a large window a' time, 'ere!" Remy called again, and he turned to see that Lance and Pietro were already swinging themselves into the back seats.

"Crap, gotta go talk to you later bye!" he yelped, barely remembering to grab his books before dashing off towards the car and leaving a slightly confused Kurt behind.

Now, why had the brotherhood boys gone into Gambit's car...?

* * *

"Uh, question. Why are Lance and Pietro coming with us, yo?" he asked, staring over at the driver of the quite beautiful Ferrari questioningly.

"Remy b' tellin' de Boss 'bout what's goin' on," the cajun replied, much to his horror.

Boss meant Magneto. Magneto now knew about everything.

"De Boss tol' Remy t' pick you guys up from school. He don' wan' any of you stayin' in de same house as Mystique, so you're all stayin' wit' us, now. He'll b' meetin' us dere."

He relaxed slightly. Though he'd told Pietro that his dad didn't have anything to do with Mystique going off the deep end, he hadn't really been sure. But according to Remy, the guy was pissed enough to pull them all out of the Brotherhood, which definitely put the metal bender in the 'What the Hell is Going On?' camp, which even more definitely boded well for his continued survival.

If Magneto shared Mystique's views... well, he'd be dead. No question about it.

"Also, Remy's gonna b' takin' you all shoppin' sometime soon. Sanctioned by de Boss-Man."

Ohh, shopping. New clothes would be nice- really really nice. Especially since most of his pants were held together with duct tape. He needed new clothes.

Lance, who had been silent the entire time, presumably thinking deeply about their new circumstances, finally spoke up.

"I love your car."

Okay, so apparently he wasn't thinking deeply. Or at all, really.

Pietro snapped his fingers angrily in front of Lance's face, prompting the immediate, conditioned response, "Not as much as you, babe." Lance was about as whipped as they come.

"But..."

"Ah!"

"But-"

"Lance, if you know what's good for you, shut. _Up_."

Todd just shook his head.

"Pietro, are you seriously jealous of a car?" he asked.

"Yes, I am jealous of a car. Did you look at this thing? It's sleek and shiny and pretty and-"

The speedster was cut off as the car swerved slightly, sending him sliding straight into Lance and cutting off the rant in the making.

"Uh, Gambit, yo? Maybe you should pay attention to the road instead pf laughing hysterically- goddammit, car! Car car car-"

Todd closed his eyes and clung to the hand hold, chanting 'I don't wanna die,' over and over as Gambit smirked.

"Okay, Toddish, it's safe."

He opened his eyes and promptly closed them again, groaning pathetically. Gambit had decided it would be a good idea to lean back, cross his arms behind his head, and drive with his freakin' knees.

"I'm gonna die. Oh my god, I'm gonna die in a car filled with crazy people, yo. I actually can't decide who has worse driving, you or Creed."

"Mon dieu, you le' _Toothy_ drive you t' school? You poor, poor chil'."

He clapped his hands over his eyes as Gambit took a sharp right turn, mentally praying for his continued survival. He swore that he was going to get his own driver's license as soon as possible, if _this_ was the driving he'd have to put up with.

"Yes, it was terrifying- but so are you, yo! Hands on the friggin' wheel please!"

He had a hard enough time riding in a car without there being a crazy driver at the wheel, thank you very much. He got carsick fairly easily, and the mere idea that Gambit was driving around with his knees was enough to make him feel fairly ill.

Gambit must have noticed him turning green- well, greener than usual- because the next time the cajun said it was safe, Gambit's hands were firmly planted on the steering wheel, much to his relief. He flopped back into his seat and focused on not barfing all over the shiny leather interior for the rest of the car ride, happily tumbling out of the car as they pulled into the Brotherhood Boarding House's driveway.

"Okay, kids, Remy'll be in de car. Go grab wha' you need an' scream if anyt'ing happens."

Lance and Pietro nodded and darted into the house and up the stairs, and he followed, grabbing a bag to pack away all the movies and games they'd somehow (illegally) acquired the two years they'd lived in this dump.

God, two years. Two whole years. It was the longest he'd ever spent in one place that had more... if not happy, if not content, then at least fairly positive memories connected to it. He was attached, and it felt strange to be leaving after so long. He felt a little nostalgic, really, and he should know better than to get attached to anything by now, but-

His musings were cut off by a hand wrapping around his throat and pinning him to the wall.

"You fucking _toad_," a voice hissed, dark and ominous, "You've ruined _everything_, you retarded piece of _shit_!"

He struggled madly against the hand crushing his windpipe, blurred vision picking up on a smear of blue. Mystique. She must have been waiting for them, for him.

She slammed him against the wall again, and a third time, making him see stars, but he kicked out and managed to catch her in the stomach. Mystique dropped him and snarled, and he fell to the floor gasping for air, trying to gather up enough to move. A kick wouldn't keep Mystique down for long, and he needed to be able to get away be able to see-

Too late.

He hadn't been fast enough. She grabbed him by the hair and threw him into a wall, knocking away all the air he'd managed to gather. He gasped and coughed as she towered over him, hissing curses and obscenities, punctuating each one with a harsh kick.

He felt a burst of air and saw a white blur settle itself between him and the blue mutant, standing in front of him protectively.

"Oi! Ugly-blue-lady! Yeah, you, you-fat-old-hag!"

"P'tro?" he coughed, trying to focus on the blurs moving around in front of him.

"Hush, Todd, I'm being insulting," the white haired teen admonished before turning to face Mystique, glaring at the woman harshly.

"Damn, woman! You-need-some-serious-plastic-surgery-to-help-with-THAT-face, oh, yes-you-do."

Pietro moved to-and-fro quickly, making faces and generally doing everything to distract Mystique.

"C'mon, dogface! Betcha-can't-hit-me! Betcha-betcha-betcha-oooh, so-close-NOT!"

The speedster dodged from side to side, trying to distract Mystique as much as possible while Lance was acting out the second half of their hastily though out rescue plan. In their defense, they had about three seconds from the time they had realized Mystique was in the house to the time the blue woman had attacked Todd, so any real plan kind of got thrown out the window, and they'd settled for... more a basic outline than a plan.

"Please, lady, I'm-about-to-fall-asleep-here. Can-you-do-any-better?"

Really, said basic outline consisted of him annoying the crap out of Mystique while Lance snuck up behind them and smacked the woman over the head with something... Except the next time Pietro went to dodge, Mystique struck out and kicked Todd across already cracked ribs.

The frog mutant cried out quietly, curling in on himself, and Pietro cursed, standing stock-still.

"That's-just-cheap...er-than-you. That's-also-cheating, last-time-I-checked..."

Mystique struck out again, and this time, Pietro didn't dodge. Todd winced slightly as the blue woman's fist snapped against Pietro's thin face, making a loud cracking noise.

"Oooh, you-shouldn't-have-done-that, Dogface. Lance-is-gonna-whop-your-ass-now, bitch."

Lance jumped over the stair case railing and landed behind Mystique, growling ferally. The earth-controller had been trying to keep control of himself, but the bitch hitting Pietro had been the last straw. The ground shook hard enough to knock the blue woman off her feet, and a hand made of stone ripped itself free, gripping the older mutant hard enough to hurt.

"You do not touch what is mine," Lance snarled, the hand squeezing tight, "You do not touch Todd. You do not touch Pietro. And if you do, I will kill you."

The last two words were emphasized by the hand's grip tightening enough to make Mystique choke, and the woman struggled frantically against her earthen restraint. Lance eased off enough to let her breathe, but left it tight enough to bruise.

"Todd, are you alright?" Lance asked, tone softening, reaching a hand out to the trembling mutant, "C'mere, babe, it's okay, I got her, she's not gonna hurt you anymore, okay?"

Todd launched himself at the older teen, gasping quietly. His throat hurt too much to speak, bruises in the form of fingers already forming, and he choked out a quiet sob as he clung to Lance.

Being attacked twice in as many days had seriously messed him up. He knew he'd be jumping at small noises, and his fight or flight reflexes would probably end up permanently stuck on flight, just like they had back on the streets. Right now, it was all he could do not to run away and find a small, dark corner to hide in.

"Shh, c'mon, Todd, it's gonna be alright. Let's go get Gambit, he'll take care of her, okay?"

He nodded and staggered to his feet, still desperately clinging to Lance. He couldn't make himself let go- his grip on the older teen was the only thing keeping him from bolting.

"C'mere, babe."

Lance swept him up into his arms, and he flung his arms around the earth-controller's neck.

"Pietro, are you okay?" Lance asked softly, and he peeked over the other's shoulder to eye the speedster.

"Fine. She-got-a-good-hit-in, but-I'll-be-fixed-in-a-few-minutes," Pietro rambled off, Grabbing Lance by the shoulder and steering them out of the house, and he shivered and tightened his grip as they passed the struggling, cursing form of Mystique.

Gambit, of course, freaked slightly as they trudged out of the house, Lance carrying him and Pietro with a badly bruised cheek.

"Wha' de hell 'appened t' you?" the card-carrying mutant yelped, darting over and quickly searching them for additional injuries, "You were gone for less t'an ten minutes!"

"Mystique's in the house, stuck to the floor," Lance answered tiredly, "She beat up Todd and hit Pietro. Please go kill her or something."

Gambit gestured them into the car, handing Lance the keys.

"Did you ge' your t'ings?"

"'S-in-the-front-room," Pietro answered, curled up on the seat next to Lance.

"'Kay. Remy'll go get dem for you. You stay in de car- lock de doors, roll up de windows. Only open it up if Remy says... Toddy-Frog, oui?"

After gathering nods from the only two coherent kids, he tossed them the keys and made sure they followed his orders before striding into the house, carefully.

No offense to Lance, but there were very few things that could actually 'stick' Mystique and_ keep_ her stuck. He could hear yowling and cursing, but the sounds echoed off the damn walls and made it impossible to tell which direction they were coming from.

"Huh. Maybe she _is_ still-"

He yelped and fell to the floor as something heavy collided with his head, knocking him into a daze.

* * *

Oooh, cliffhanger. Sorry.

Ok, so this chapter. I am not happy with it. I re-wrote it, like, seven times, but eh. _ It's totally bipolar. And the action- yeah, not so good at writing action scenes. Please forgive my suck. Once again, anything I missed, any pointers, all that stuff.


	8. Chapter 8

HAha, new chapter for you. Sorry it's kinda short, I've kinda got writer's block DX. Oh, and a warning: This is the last pre-written stuff I have. It may take a bit longer for updates now.

Today's my birthday, people! Try to give me a nice review as a present, hmm? Pretty please? OwO

* * *

_"Huh. Maybe she is still-" _

_He yelped and fell to the floor as something heavy collided with his head, knocking him into a daze. _

"Where are they?"

Well, he'd found Mystique... who had apparently beat him over the head with the most goddamned ugly lamp he thought he'd ever seen, ever. And the ugliness was only enhanced by the fact that there were now two of them. And two Mystiques, for that matter.

"Where are those fucking brats- no, where's the Toad? Give him to me, and you can keep the rest of them," Mystique snarled, waving the lamp(s) around threateningly.

"All of de kid's are comin' wit' Gambit," he growled back, staggering to his feet with a groan, "Like 'ell he's gonna let you have dem!"

"I order you to give him to me!" she screamed, swinging at him wildly. It was hard, seeing as there were still two Mystiques, but he managed to dodge them both, wobbling dangerously.

"You have to listen to me! I'm higher up on the food chain than you- what do you think Erik would say, if you disobeyed me?"

He dodged another two swings, shaking his head roughly. Blood dripped into one of his eyes from a cut the lamp had probably given him, screwing up his vision even more.

"I would say that Gambit is in the right. Drop your weapon, now."

He looked up and grinned. The almighty Bucket-Head floated behind the bitch in all of his 'misunderstood-good-guy' glory, glaring down at her as if she'd warranted the wrath of God himself.

Considering that Mystique had hit Pietro, he wouldn't be surprised if that was the truth, in Magneto's eyes.

"It has come to my attention that you have been... abusing your position amongst my Acolytes."

Magneto landed on the ground silently and stalked over to them, wrenching the lamp(s) away with a wave of his hand. Metal warped and groaned around him, and even Mystique could tell the man was pissed.

"This is unacceptable. I will not tolerate this kind of behavior. You are hereby dismissed from your position. Any money you are receiving will be stopped, any power you had within the ranks of the Acolytes will be removed, and if I see you within fifty metres of my son and the other Brotherhood members, I will _destroy you_."

He shivered slightly, able to feel the sheer anger being directed at the blue-skinned woman. Magneto... it was the angriest he'd ever seen the man in all the years he'd known him. It was terrifying.

"But- Erik, darling," Mystique simpered, apparently unable to recognize all the danger signs Magneto was displaying, "It's for the Brotherhood and the Acolytes that I must do this! The fre- Toad is a danger to us, he is-"

A metal bar flew through the air and wrapped around her throat, stopping her mid-word.

"You hit my son," Magneto said quietly, almost too quiet to hear, "_You hit my son_. I am two seconds away from killing you where you stand. Get out, before my self control... falters."

The bar tightened sharply before clattering to the floor, Mystique scrambling out of the room soon after. For some reason, that was really funny.

"You attacked 'er wit' a tow'l rack," he giggled, watching as both Magnetos merged into one, and then split into three more, "Dat's awesome, homme."

"Gambit... are you alright?"

"Je suis étourdie," he muttered, shaking his head again, "Pourquoi y at-il de vous deux?"_ (I'm dizzy. Why are there two of you?)_

His head felt like it was stuffed full of wet cotton, but his brain felt like it was sloshing around in water. He squinted, hissing slightly as more blood got into his eye.

"Gambit?"

He yelped as something touched his head, stumbling back and falling onto his butt.

"Great. You probably have a concussion. Come here-"

He giggled as something grabbed him by the arm and lifted him to his feet, prompting a dizzy rush of colour across his vision.

"Erik~ c'était amusant! Nouveau? Nouveau?" _(That was fun! Again? Again?)_

"I don't understand a single word you are saying," the Magnetos muttered, looking over at him with eyebrows raised, "Please tell me you can still speak English."

"Course Remy c'n!" he slurred, affronted, Cajun accent thicker than ever, "Mais le français est plus facile de se rappeler en ce moment." _(but french is easier to remember at the moment)_

He heard Erik sigh and mumble something he was sure was insulting under his breath before he was carted out of the house. Everything was spinning in circles, and he was quite delighted by the strange colours the world was turning at the moment.

Erik shook his head and steadied the now quite out of it Cajun, making sure the shorter man didn't fall flat on his face. Mystique had to have hit Gambit rather hard over the head to give him a concussion of the caliber he seemed to be suffering from, and he just hoped that there was no permanent brain damage. His Acolytes were screwed up enough, he didn't need the only sane one going crazy too.

"I suppose I will have to drive you home, then," he muttered, grimacing slightly. He hated conventional travel, it was so slow. Though Remy's car was rather nice, it paled in comparison to his own methods.

"G'ta say de passw'rd~" Gambit sing-songed, sounding rather ridiculous in his opinion.

"Then what is the password?" he asked slowly, trying to resist the urge to curse at the concussed man in German. Seeing as he was standing in front of the car and his son was currently staring at him with wide eyes, that would not be the best course of action.

"I dunno," Gambit muttered, looking at him with squinty eyes, "Are y' Mystiiiique?"

He rolled his eyes.

"No, Gambit, I am not Mystique. Now please get on with it, you are not the lightest man in the world," he sighed, somehow managing to look dignified and incredibly put out at the same time.

"Di- di' y' jus' c'll me fat?" Gambit gasped, swaying as the man swatted him on the shoulder, "T-toddy-Frog, Magn'to called me fat!"

He sent a silent prayer up as the doors unlocked, dumping Gambit into the passenger seat before settling himself in behind the wheel.

"What was the password, then?" he asked, shifting the car into drive and easing it out of the driveway, "And may I enquire as to why there was there a password in the first place?"

No one answered him.

He flicked his gaze to the rear view mirror, checking to make sure the children in the back were still alive. Pietro and Lance were staring at him blankly, his son's mouth slightly open, Lance's eyebrows raised about as far as they could go.

"What? Surely this is not the most shocking thing you've ever seen," he rolled his eyes, smoothly weaving in and out of traffic, "Children. Astonished by the strangest things..."

"Well, sir, you're, ah, not really the kind of person one would imagine driving a car," Lance hedged, "And you're still wearing your helmet. It's... kind of an odd sight."

Gambit giggled drunkenly from the passenger seat, nodding in agreement.

"Oui, très étrange." _(yeah, really strange)_

If he did not have near perfect control over himself, he would have groaned.

"Do any of you understand french?" he muttered, leveling an irritated look in the Cajun's direction. In his opinion, a concussed Gambit rambling in a language he didn't understand just as, if not _more_ annoying than Pyro on a shopping spree, with _his_ credit card.

"What happened to Gambit?" Lance asked hesitantly.

He didn't understand. Why were these kids so... _intimidated_ by him? He could not recall anything he may have done to create such hesitancy... Unless Mystique had somehow brainwashed the children into being afraid of him. But why would she do something like that? What would the purpose be?

He sighed and switched to driving with one hand, wrenching his signature helmet off and running his fingers through his hair.

"Why was there a password?" he questioned back, one eyebrow raised, not that they could see it.

"Gambit told us to stay in the car with Todd, lock the doors and windows, and not open them until he said the password. He didn't want Mystique tricking us," Lance said quietly, "What happened to Gambit, sir?"

"Mystique hit him over the head with a lamp," he deadpanned, rolling his eyes at the giggling cajun, "Now I am 100 percent sure he has a concussion. He should be fine in a few days, though."

Gambit giggled some more and poked the side of his face.

"Unless I kill him first," he muttered, pulling gratefully into the driveway of the Acolyte's house, "Come with me, Gambit- no, don't- verdammt."

He sighed again and scooped the most certainly delusional Cajun up from the ground, batting whatever Gambit had managed to collect away and dragging him into the house, beckoning the children to follow.

"Sit," he ordered, and gathered some ice in a washcloth, "Hold that here- no, here, Gambit. God, you are acting like a _child_."

He turned towards the real children and gestured for them to sit.

"I am going to go collect the first aid kit- see if Todd has any injuries he needs taken care of, hmm?"

Lance nodded and watched the tall mutant stalk out of the room.

"Pietro?"

The white haired teen jerked, looking over at him questioningly.

"Yeah?"

"I think today has been the strangest day, ever," he said, one eye twitching slightly.

Pietro just nodded, still in too much shock to really do much else. This whole day had practically been an episode of the Twilight Zone on steroids. Lance groaned and shook his head, snapping himself out of it. He could freak out later, when he and Todd and Pietro were safely locked away in whatever room they were going to be staying in.

He set Todd down on one of the chairs surrounding the kitchen table, shaking the kid to full awareness gently.

"L-lance?"

"Yeah? 'M right here, Todd. We're... back at the Acolyte place, whatever they call it. Gotta make sure you're in one piece, okay?"

He waited until the younger teen nodded tiredly before running a hand over Todd's back and sides, checking for any lumps or extremely painful spots. A few ribs were probably more cracked than before, and one of them had broken, but other than that, the only injuries were bruises, luckily.

"Nothing too bad," he soothed, quickly checking Todd's head for any cuts and, finding none, ruffled his hair gently, "Just a broken rib. You'll be fine."

The kid- and god, Todd really was a kid, really was young, at 15 to his 18- nodded and yawned, wrapping thin arms around his neck and hugging him gingerly.

"Th'nks, Lance," Todd muttered, wincing slightly as his ribs twinged, "Are you an' Pietro okay?"

He nodded, scooping Todd up and into his lap. He hadn't been hurt at all, something he felt irrationally guilty for, and Pietro's bruised cheek had already faded to a dusky smudge. Todd had taken the brunt of Mystique's attack, like always.

He didn't understand- Todd was always the target, always the victim. It was like the whole world was against him, which really wasn't fair, because once one managed to muscle their way through Todd's masks, he really was the sweetest damn kid.

Really, so many people took one look at them- at Todd, specifically- and wrote them off because they had ragged clothes and the general 'hoodlum' appearance that it was assumed by all that they were a mean, unsavory lot and no effort was put into actually getting to know them. It was a shame, too, because Todd was smart, really smart, and nicer than most of the X-men combined, if what Jean Grey and the little brats were doing to Kurt was any indication.

And oh, didn't that just make him want to punch something- or, rather, someone. He'd had a talk with Kurt earlier that day, after he'd gotten the kid far enough away from the lunchroom that Grey couldn't make mincemeat of his brain. Apparently it was a rather common occurrence. If the princess didn't get her way, she flipped out and screwed around with telepathy until her demands were met. It really pissed him off.

Especially, for some reason, when he imagined it happening to Scott. There was just something about the younger teen that made him seem... vulnerable. Tired. At first, it had really rubbed him the wrong way, enough to make him pick fights and taunt and tease, just to see some energy, some reaction- but now it just made him worried. It was almost like something was sucking the life out of the X-Man, or at least the will to do anything other than bow and scrape to Jean's demands.

It was why he pestered and bugged and annoyed and, well, generally made himself a bloody nuisance for the other teen- it was the only time he saw anything other than dull obedience.

He absently soothed as Todd shifted and jostled his ribs, rubbing the back of the kid's neck comfortingly.

This whole situation was just shit, really, but he'd learned to make the best of shit a long time ago, so now he just had to do the same thing with this.

* * *

Ok, so, last pre-written chapter. Once again, the french is google-french, and thus most likely wrong. Please let me know about any mistakes, such as accidentally cursing out someone's mother instead of my intended sentences.


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